


Whipping Post

by CBFirestarter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Contracts, Eventual Happy Ending, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, M/M, Master/Pet, POV Castiel, POV Dean Winchester, POV Sam Winchester, Perdition, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rebel Castiel, Rebellion, Sexual Slavery, Slave Dean, Slave Trade, Slavery, Slow Burn, The Fist, The Hand, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-01-25 18:53:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 27
Words: 89,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12538856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CBFirestarter/pseuds/CBFirestarter
Summary: Dean has always had to struggle to keep his family together in an unforgiving word. The threat of starvation, homelessness, and enslavement hanging over him and his family's head. Dean ends up learning first hand just what living under the rule of The Fist means. Struggling to hold onto a sense of self that this new hell strips away from him, there is a light at the end of the tunnel in the kindness of a blue eyed stranger. But will the blue eyed stranger save him in time? Will there be anything left of Dean to save?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers, I am excited to get this fic posted but please please please read the tags and warnings. This fic is wildly different from all my other work so far and is very dark and intense. This is my dystopian future sex slave fic, that too me represents Dean's time in hell and Castiel's raising him up. There will be a lot of hurt before there is comfort. This story has just been begging me to write it and I want to thank Ellen of Oz for editing and beta reading it along the way. I plan to try and post a chapter a week depending on schedule.

Dean smiled and sighed as he cruised through town, fingers tapping the steering wheel. Sam sat shotgun, hair falling in his face as he shuffled papers in his backpack. He was going to have to get Sam pinned down for a haircut soon - it was getting out of control. He also glanced down and noticed Sam's jeans looked a little short. Kid was growing like a weed these days. Dean was pretty sure even he wasn't that tall at fourteen, and he dwarfed most men he met. 

"Tell me why again we are driving all the way across town to the library on a Sunday?" Dean asked and glanced over as the shaggy mop of hair shook to the side to reveal Sam's face underneath. 

"I told you, I need another book to finish my report on the Byzantine empire."

"What is the bizzytime empire anyway?"

"Byzantine empire, and you can read my report when I am done with it, if you're really that curious," Sam smiled and rolled his eyes.

"I’m sure it will be a riveting read," Dean chuckled. He teased Sam about it but he actually always read all his reports before he handed them in. He would always much rather help Sam with his homework then do his own. Only a couple more months though and he would finally graduate. 

"Can you get me at eight o'clock?" Sam asked as Dean pulled up to the curb.

"Dude, no! That is way too close to curfew. I'll come by around seven thirty, alright? So you better have your ass in gear by then." Dean never took any chances when it came to curfew with Sam. It was one thing if the cops caught him on the streets past nine o’clock, but it wasn't worth the risk with Sam. 

"Fine, jerk," Sam grunted, stuffing his papers in his bag. 

"Bye bitch!" Dean yelled after Sam who waved over his shoulder as he hurried up the library steps. 

Dean idled in his Impala for a few minutes before deciding he would just head home and see if his dad needed anything. He passed two rover vans on the drive and they always gave Dean the chills. He hadn't yet been born when the second civil war had broken out in 2024, but he'd always wondered what life had been like before that. Before the curfews, the book burnings, the subjects cut from class lists. Before The Fist, with its economic reforms and strict identification policies. He rubbed self-consciously at the ID band, welded onto his wrist. Silver, at least it was silver, he thought. 

Dean’s eyes caught on two men hunched and barefoot trailing behind a woman in a long white coat. The wretches shuffled behind her, their copper wrist bands caught in the sunlight. The Indentured Servitude Act had been one of the biggest changes brought in by The Fist regime, praised with saving the country from economic downfall. Looking at those men, he never thought the cost was worth the gain. 

When he was young he would often stare at the slaves he saw in the streets, all wearing collars and many on leashes, led around like dogs. Always with the copper wrist bands. Every time John caught him staring he would smack him hard upside the head and make him face forward. 

"Don't stare at the poor bastards, Dean," John would growl. 

Very few slaves were brought out in public. Dean was surprised to see two out on the street like that - most were kept at personal homes or at the businesses that owned them. Most people spent their lives simply fighting to stay free from slavery, but it was harder than it sounded. Money and jobs were scarce, and anyone that fell too far behind on a government-backed loan would find themselves getting tossed into the back of a black van, paying back their loans through the proceeds of their sale at a slave auction. Dean had never been to one and John never let either of the boys within fifty miles of the closest training farm. 

Dean never worried too much, but Sam, he would get nightmares sometimes and wake up in the middle of the night screaming not to take him. Dean always managed to calm him back down and would sit with him until he fell back asleep, promising him no one was gonna take him away. The older Sam got, though, the more questions he had, and he was sent home from school suspended on more than one occasion for voicing traitorous thoughts about the government. John had shook Sam so hard on the first of those nights he left bruises all along his arms. 

Dean drove away from the collared wretches, a cold feeling down his back. He seriously hoped Sam’s new report had nothing to do with slavery. He would definitely insist on taking a read over it to make sure he didn’t catch a teacher’s attention again. Though if Dean were honest he swelled with pride a little at his brothers outspoken bravery, no matter how foolish.

Dean pulled up to the motel they had been staying at. They had lost their house a few years back and rented a trailer, but John had then injured his leg and now could just barely afford a single motel room for the three of them. Dean worked odd jobs if he could find them and planned to get the best full time job he could the second he was out of school to help ease the pressure on his dad. 

The sour smell of cheap whiskey burned his nose the second Dean stepped in the door. John was slumped over the table with a glass in hand and an empty bottle on the table. His was tapping his cane on the floor almost absentmindedly and hadn't even looked up at Dean coming in. 

"Hey, Dad. Starting early today? Thought you'd still be at work?" A lump started to form in Dean's throat at the idea of his dad losing his job. They only had another day or two of food left and really needed that next paycheck. 

"Where’s Sam?"

"Just dropped him at the library, I'll go get him at seven thirty though," Dean replied, watching the hunched form of his father.

"That's probably for the best then. Sit down, son," John grunted, kicking out the chair across from him. Dean hesitated a moment before slowly sitting down at the wobbly old table. 

"What's up, Dad?" 

"Dean, we gotta talk," John poured the last of the whiskey into his glass and took a long swig. "Feeding three people just ain't as easy as it used to be, especially with both of you growing boys. Sam... now Sammy, he's really bright, takes to those books just like your mother did. College will be around the bend for him before we know it, and I ain't gonna have the money to send him there." John took another swig of the whiskey. 

"We still got a few years, Dad, and I’ll be getting a full time job soon so I can help save for Sammy's schooling." Dean would bust his ass seven days a week if he had to, but Sam was going to college. 

"Sam's my- he is our best shot at getting out of this shit hole. If he can get an education and get one of them fancy jobs at one of those big city companies, we wouldn't have to worry anymore." John let out a sad sigh and stared off into space a moment before rubbing his hands over his face. It was then that Dean saw how glossy eyed his dad was and for the first time in his life Dean felt genuinely scared. His dad had cried once on the day Dean's mom had died and he never saw the man shed a tear since, not even when he got his right pinky finger chopped off on the job. 

"What’s wrong, Dad? Spit it out." Dean said this a little gruffer than he meant to, but his dad was acting so strange and it had him on edge.

"You turn eighteen in ten days, Dean."

"Yeah, so what?" 

"So time is running out, that's what!" John yelled, and Dean had no idea what he was trying to tell him. 

"I've been putting this off as long as I can, but bottom line Dean, this is the only way out and I had to do it before your birthday-" 

Dean bolted up out his chair, his heart threatening to pound right out of his chest. 

"What the fuck are you saying, Dad?!" Dean yelled, feeling tears come to his eyes. John was silent a moment hanging his head. "Answer me, you son of a bitch!" Dean yelled again and John cringed back at the harsh words. 

"You are still seventeen and you are still my boy."

"You didn't- Dad you wouldn't do that to me, you couldn't do that to me," Dean felt the bile rise in his throat and barely made it to the bathroom in time to puke his guts out in the toilet. His body heaved and retched, clammy hands clinging to the side of the tub. That's when he heard it, the knock on the motel door. The blood drained out of his face. He was trapped. Why hadn't he bolted out the door the second his dad started talking like that? Why had he run in here? He heard the sound of his dad’s chair scrape along the motel carpet and his heavy boots and cane slowly walking to the door. 

Dean did the only thing he could think of and ran to stop his dad from opening that door. "Stop! Don't do this!" he yelled, grabbing onto his dad’s shirt, but John, in one mighty throw, tossed Dean backwards against the motel bed. This was all happening too fast. John opened the door. Three men stood outside. The man in front wore a finely pressed grey suit and had a leering salesman’s grin stretched across his face. Behind him stood two enormous rover guards dressed all in black with utility belts holding all kinds of terrifying items.

"Mr. Winchester, I presume?" The man grinned at John who was standing, chest puffed out, as proud as he could be. 

"You Azazel, right?" John asked in a gruff voice. 

"The one and only. Do you have all the boy's paperwork ready? I’d like to get on the road soon - I have two other acquisitions tonight." There was a long slithery drawl to the man's voice and Dean willed his legs to start working, but he felt paralyzed sprawled out on the floor. 

"Here, it’s all set." John pulled out a stack of papers from behind his back that were crinkled and folded and but handed them over to the slimey man. 

"Good, good, these all seem to be in order." Azazel's eyes looked up from the paperwork and honed in on Dean. Dean slowly managed to get to his feet. He balled his hands into fists and dug his nails into his palms. "Is this him, then?" Azazel asked, eyes scanning over Dean's body. John just nodded. "Oh, he is a pretty one isn't he? Those green eyes and tight lean body... Oh yes, he will fetch a good price, believe me."

"Fuck you, you asshole!" Dean spat, pushing his fear toward anger since that would likely be a much more useful emotion. 

"Hmm, temper on him though. Not to worry, they will get that out of him at the farm in no time." Azazel gave Dean a wink, an actual fucking wink. He knew he couldn't make a run through the front door but his eyes darted to the side window. As he tried to gauge and see if he had enough time, the suited man snapped his fingers and the two brutes pushed through the doorway headed straight for Dean. 

Fight or flight right? Those were the options a prey animal had, and while flight seemed preferable, fight was really his only option. Dean swung, punched and kicked with everything he had, even landed a few solid hits to one of the guys’ jaws. Still it only took the men a matter of minutes to get Dean pinned to the floor, arms twisted painfully behind his back and the sound of cuffs getting locked. 

"Don't fight it, son, that will only make it worse." John tried to throw some authority behind his voice but even Dean could hear the fear in it. 

"Dad, you can still stop this, okay? I'll get a job, I'll get three jobs, I promise I'll quit school right now and I'll make you money," Dean was pleading now as the two men manhandled him up to his feet. 

"No, Dean, this is the only way. I sell you and I get enough money to feed Sam and I for the next few years and pay for his schoolin’. It won't be forever, alright Dean? As soon as Sam and I get enough money we will come buy you back, okay? I promise, son." John's voice was cracking and Dean pulled against the painful grip on his arms. 

"Load him in the truck. We’re already late for our next pick up," Azazel said, snapping his fingers at the two thugs. 

"Dad, what about Sam? I didn't even get to say goodbye to Sammy!" Dean felt the tears coming again no matter how hard he fought them down, and he dug his heels into the carpet, pulling against his captors with all the strength he had left. 

"I’ll tell him, Dean, don't you worry about Sammy. I will take care of him. You take care of yourself now, you hear?" 

How could this be happening? This couldn't be happening, not to him.

"Dad! Dad!" Dean yelled repeatedly as they dragged him outside where the black rover van stood idling. 

"Come on princess, up you go," one of the men chuckled and with a push Dean crashed onto the hard metal floor of the van. The steel doors slammed before Dean could scramble to his feet to the barred window. He knelt and watched the silhouette of his father standing in the doorway as the van began to pull away. Dean felt the deep hole in his chest as everything he held dear was ripped away from him. He slowly slid to the floor, back against the doors, arms still painfully pinned behind his back. His aching heart could only produce one thought over and over again. "Sammy, who's gonna take care of Sammy?" Dean closed his eyes, and alone in the dark, he let the tears fall silently down his face.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean wasn't sure how long he had been in the back of the van. They had stopped twice but no one came to open the back of the truck. It grew colder with each passing hour and Dean wished desperately he had his leather coat on him. He had trouble balancing with his arms cuffed behind his back but he managed to settle himself, back braced in the corner. Dean's mind went to Sam. He was probably out of the library by now and waiting on the steps for him. Would John be sober enough to go get him? Would Sam figure out he wasn't coming and walk home before curfew hit? Dean cursed and kicked the side of the van in vain.    
  
_ I'll take care of Sam, I promise _ . Dean gritted his teeth, John didn't know the first thing about taking care of Sam. He didn't know what food the kid liked or how to help him with his homework. Who was going to make sure that he had clean clothes for school, or that he got his haircut, or talk to him about the girl, Jane, that he liked in math class? Who would make sure that what was happening to Dean never happened to Sam? How could he protect his brother from here? The uncomfortable thoughts rolled around Dean's mind for hours till finally the truck pulled to a stop and the engine cut off. There was muffled talking and it seemed like thirty minutes had gone by. Dean heard faint sounds of gunfire in the distance, and his stomach dropped. Soon after, they were moving again. 

It was another hour or so before the van stopped again. He took a deep steadying breath as he heard footsteps and lowered voices outside the van. He got his feet under him and with a herculean effort stood as tall as he could. The doors swung wide and the two brutes from earlier stood staring at him.    
  
"Come on, move your ass, bitch," one of them grunted at him. Dean felt frozen. While he logically knew that he couldn't overpower these guys he still couldn't see just giving in. "I'll make you regret it if I have to come in there after you, boy. Now move!"   
  
"Fuck you!" Dean spat back, still against the wall. Dean hardly saw the hand move to the belt and heard the click before he fell to the floor writhing in pain. Electricity coursed through his body and he shook and twitched on the floor, biting his lip till it was bleeding. Finally it stopped and Dean gasped for breath.    
  
"Grab him, Jack. I’m fucking tired and want to get the hell home already," one of the voices said. Rough hands were at Dean's arm, pulling him out of the van and tossing him in the dirt. "Get up and move or I will taze your ass again."    
  
Dean gritted his teeth but shakily managed to get his feet under him. He just had to get through this, get through this place and bide his time till he could escape. He felt a hand at his back pushing him forward through a tall, barbed wire fence, the slam of the chain link gate making him flinch. Two more guards greeted them at the building's door.    
  
"Fresh meat?" one of the guards asked, looking Dean up and down.    
  
"Hey, Ralph. Yeah, we were supposed to grab two more but they made a run for it. Had to put them down." Dean realizes what the gunshots had been and shivered unintentionally.    
  
"Well you brought us a real pretty one at least. Boss seen him yet?"   
  
"Nah, Azazel is heading up there now to give him the full report." The other man nodded and Dean kept his lips shut tight. 

He was shoved and moved into a long dark hallway and on into a large tiled room with drains in the floor and hoses on the wall. One of the guards undid his cuffs and Dean gratefully wiggled his stiff shoulders.    
  
"Strip," the man grunted and Dean noticed the cattle prod he twirled in his hand. Dean was so fucking tired but he'd be damned if he stripped in front of this guy.    
  
"Sorry, man, if you want to get into my pants I suggest buying me dinner, or at least pie," Dean smirked.  He tried to dodge and failed as the cattle prod landed on his hip, pushing him flat against the wall. His head hit with a sickening crack and he saw spots for a few seconds. When the man relented Dean gasped for breath.    
  
"You strip, or I take them off for you," the man growled and ran his thick tongue over his lips. Dean held back the urge to vomit but stayed stock still. "Have it your way." The two guards descended on him.  One wrapped a hand around his throat, holding him pinned to the wall while the other used a knife to cut away at Dean's clothes. He kicked and cursed and pulled at the hand on his throat but he was slowly losing consciousness as he struggled for air. He was about to black out when suddenly they dropped him and he crumpled on the floor, pulling deep, ragged breaths.   
  
He scrunched his eyes shut and curled in on himself, realizing in horror that he was now completely naked in front of these two men. Getting oxygen in still seemed like the most important task at the moment so he focused on breathing, and he swallowed to try and ease his sore throat. Just when he felt he was coming back to himself, he was suddenly slammed with cold water. The force of it nearly knocked the wind out of him again. He held up his arms to try and shield himself from the pounding water pressure as he was hosed down from head to toe. When they finally turned it off he was shivering violently.    
  
He didn't have it in him to struggle as they cuffed his wrists in front of him and hauled him to his feet. He shook all over as they walked him down a cool hallway and lead him into a darkly lit room with no windows. He was quickly pushed to his knees and his cuffs were locked to a ring bolted into the cement floor. "See ya later, sweet cheeks," one of the men laughed and slapped Dean on the ass before walking out of the room. Dean couldn't stand up with his hands cuffed to the floor so he folded his legs under him and peered around the room.    
  
How the fuck did he end up in this situation? He had heard horror stories in school whispered on play grounds and in back hallways about the things they did at the training farms. He knew that's where slaves learned proper etiquette, how to kneel and beg and how to approach their masters. He also knew it was were they determined the slaves’ strengths and different potentials. Some were sent to do hard labor at different businesses like at a quarry, mining rock all day or working in a lumber yard. Dean knew that slaves didn't last more than a few years in those kind of stations, often dying or being put down when they were too worn to work anymore. Then there were personal slaves, house slaves who tended after their rich masters who bought them. Those kind could live out their lives working in those kind of posts if the masters were kind enough. The biggest market, though, was for pleasure slaves, who were nothing more then pretty fuck toys for their masters. Dean bit back another wave of nausea at the thought.    
  
He was almost dry, though still freezing, when the door to the room finally opened. A man in a white dress shirt and grey slacks slowly sauntered into the room. He was an older man with graying hair and slender body. He kept his hands clasped behind his back and a very small half-interested smile on his thin lips. One of the guards from earlier followed the other man in and stood behind Dean out of his view.   
  
"Hello, Dean. My name is Alastair," the man practically purred as he walked a slow circle around him. "I would like to have a little chat with you before we start your training."   
  
"All ears, Al," Dean gave a humorless laugh.    
  
The man only sighed, "You have a smart mouth, don't you, Dean? That's okay, I like a challenge. Before we start I am going to make a few things very clear to you. The most important thing to know is that the government now holds your contract. You are a ward of the state for a minimum of ten years." Alastair pulled out the folded papers he had seen his dad hand over. "Now I am sure that you are sitting there plotting your escape, figuring that you will bide your time till you can make a run for freedom, right?" Alastair smiled and Dean stiffened at the words but pressed his lips together. Alastair crouched down in front of Dean meeting his eyes and despite himself, Dean leaned away from him, pulling tight on his cuffs. "What you need to know is if you die before your time is up, or if you run away from the farm or your future Master we will simply replace you."   
  
Dean raised his eyebrows in question at that, "Replace?" he heard his own hoarse voice.   
  
Alastair grinned widely. "Yes. You see, there is a clause in your contract, if you fail to fulfil your contracted terms, one Sam Winchester will be taken to finish out your term. Now your father was reluctant at first to sign that part over, but it’s an important little insurance policy of ours that helps guarantee we won't have a loss of goods." 

Alastair rose up again leaving a stunned Dean staring at the floor. Sammy, his Sam being taken here? Suddenly all of his plans to hold out, to wait, to plot his escape seemed pointless now. 

"There, there now puppet. So long as you serve your term like the good little bitch you are, Sam will come to no harm." Dean took a few slow deep breaths. He would have to stay, he would have to endure this, but he didn't have to make it easy on them.    
  
Dean turned his face to this Alastair looking him straight in the eye and smiled, "God, you like to hear yourself talk, don't you?"    
  
Alastair sneered a wide smile and he gave an ominous barking laugh. "Oh I am going to enjoy breaking you, Dean. We will start your first lesson tonight, and that is, you never look your masters in the eye. When I tell you to look at me you will raise your head and look at my throat. Do you understand?" Dean only glared at him right in the eye. "Tom," Alastair said and without any warning, searing pain streaked across Dean’s back. He bit his tongue to keep from crying out and pulled on the cuffs to try and get away, but to no avail. He had forgotten the guard was even there, but when he turned to look he saw the flogger the guard held in his hand. Dean cringed as the guard Tom brought it down in two more hard hits to his back.    
  
"Look at me," Alastair ordered. Dean raised his eyes and stared the man down again. Alastair nodded and three more hits came in fast succession. "This will go a lot easier if you do as you're told. Now, look at me." Again he raised his head and again stared the fucker down, ‘cause fuck him. This time five hard blows landed and Dean couldn't hold back a few muffled grunts of pain. He felt something cool trickle down his back and realized the fucker had broken the skin. This went on for what seemed like an eternity to Dean. He was shaking and his whole back felt like it was completely shredded. How he hadn't passed out yet was beyond him.    
  
"Dean, do you remember what I said? If you die before you’ve served your term, Sam takes your place. Now I have all night and no intention of leaving until you learn your lesson. Keep defying me and you will bleed out on this floor and I will have a rover van to your family's door before the sun comes up." Dean shivered at this as a tear streaked down his face. "Look at me."   
  
Dean raised his head and kept his eyes locked on Alastair's throat. "There, now, was that so hard, puppet? Look away." Dean quickly averted his eyes to the floor. Alastair chuckled, "Now look at me." Dean raised his eyes to Alastair's throat again and the man gave a barking laugh of satisfaction. "Good boy. I want you to remember what you've learned, ‘cause we start a new lesson tomorrow." 

Dean almost slumped with relief to think that Alastair was done with him for the night. He was in so much pain he could hardly see straight and he was quite certain he was no longer capable of walking.

"Take our new little bitch to block B-28 and put the antiseptic spray on his back. He can have water, no food." Dean barely heard the orders being given, feeling himself drifting off toward sweet unconsciousness. As he closed his eyes he was just grateful that Sammy wasn't there to see him now, to see him breaking.   



	3. Chapter 3

Sam wasn’t worried when Dean was ten minutes late, and certainly wasn’t worried when Dean was fifteen minutes late, but at thirty Sam was officially concerned. He looked at the huge clock above the library and realized he only had thirty minutes to get back to the motel, and if Dean didn’t show, he would be caught out after curfew. Sam pushed his book bag firmly on his shoulders and started jogging down the sidewalk. He knew in his gut that Dean wouldn’t have forgotten - Dean never forgot. If Dean wasn’t there it was because he couldn’t get there, and that had the fear creeping up Sam’s back. A few possibilities flitted across his mind as his feet padded against the pavement.  _ Did he crash the car? Was Dad sick or hurt? Was Dean sick or hurt? Did Dad hurt Dean?  _ None of those things were impossible, though none seemed likely. Even so, Dean would have found a way to get to him. He always found a way. 

Sam felt a searing pain in his chest from running with a full book bag in the cool air. Still he pressed on as the sign for the motel finally came into view. It was full dark now and Sam glanced at his phone to see he had four minutes to spare. Slowing to a walk he saw the Impala, shiny black in the street light, sitting in its normal spot by their room. Sam never thought he would miss the trailer until they were forced to move into the motel. The tight quarters were one thing but the smell -  it never smelled clean no matter how often he and Dean vacuumed. 

The site of the car eased a little of the tension in his gut.  _ Dean is home _ . He rattled his key in the sticky door knob and went in, dropping his bag on the floor. 

“Dean, you better have a damn good explanation for leaving me to run home from the library,” Sam grumbled, catching his breath and looking around the room. He realized no one was there. “Dean?” Sam called but there was no sound except the whir of the radiator. “Dad?” Sam called and then heard a muffled sound coming from the bathroom. He moved over to the bathroom and pushed open the door. 

The smell hit him first, the sour smell of sweat and alcohol. John was on the floor passed out, apparently. This wasn't the first time Sam had found him like this. Sam sighed and grabbed a hold of his Dad’s boots and hauled him out from the bathroom. Sam was almost as tall as John now, but he still only weighed half as much. Sam struggled to get him into a sitting position on the floor at the foot of his bed. 

“Dad, wake up. Where is Dean?” John kept his eyes pinched shut and just moaned. Sam cursed under his breath and grabbed a cup of water from the sink. Returning he splashed his father in the face, who barely blinked his eyes open to try and focus on Sam.

“Sam? Dat you boy?” John asked in his usual deep baritone. 

“Yeah, its me. Dad, where is Dean?” he asked again, fighting the rising panic. 

“Get me a cup ah coffee, would ya boy?”

“Dad, where the fuck is Dean?!” Sam exclaimed, gripping his Dad’s shirt and giving him a shake. 

“He’s fine, Sammy. Now get me a damn cup of coffee and I'll tell you everything, okay?” John managed not to slur his words as bad that time and Sam grumbled as he jumped up to grab a cup of coffee. The pot was still on so it was likely pretty burnt, but it was at least still hot. John managed to pull himself up and was sitting on the end of the bed when Sam handed him the coffee. John took it and swallowed down a few sips, wincing at the heat. 

Sam stood in front of him, arms crossed, waiting for him to talk. Sam knew his father well enough to know that if he pushed too far John was likely to shut him down completely and not say a word, or worse, take a swing at him. Sam was sure he could out-maneuver John, but if he got himself cornered he was no match for his father. 

“So you gonna tell me what's going on? Did Dean get stuck at a friends house or something?” Sam offered up the best case scenario, that Dean had lost track of time and had to stay at a friends or risk being out too late. Still didn’t explain why Dean hadn’t at least texted him though. 

“Sam, take a seat, alright?” John gestured to the kitchen chair and Sam pulled it out, straddling it with the back of the chair in front of him. “Now, I want you to know, what I did, I did it for you, for your future.” John spun the coffee mug in his hands and Sam gripped the back of the chair, holding in a barrage of questions. “We were broke, Sam, and the job at the mill, it wasn’t cutting it, you gotta understand that. There was no money and all three of us were gonna be going hungry pretty quick. I didn’t make this decision lightly, alright? I sold your brother’s contract.” 

Sam felt a wave of nausea sweep over him as all the blood drained from his face. 

“You- you- you did what?!” he sputtered out, flinging the chair to the ground and stumbling back a step.

“Now Sam, I know you're upset, but Dean will be okay.  Really.  He’s a strong boy, and now we have more than enough money for you to go to school and get one of them big high powered city jobs.” 

Sam swayed a moment where he stood and then felt the red hot rage boiling up inside him. 

“Tell me you're lying, you son of a bitch!  Tell you didn’t sell my brother into slavery!” Sam screamed at him, fisting the front of his father’s shirt. 

“Take it easy, Sammy,” John tried to instill his voice with some authority. 

Sam lost it and cold-clocked his father right across the cheek bone. Before he knew it, Sam was pummeling his father with punches, hitting his ribs, his face, anything he could get a fist onto. John eventually wrestled Sam to the floor, pinning him down with a knee to the back and one arm twisted up behind his shoulder blades. Tears were streaming down Sam's face now in pure rage and pain. 

“Fuck you, you selfish son of a bitch!” Sam spat.

“Sam, calm the hell down. In a couple years when you make enough money I am sure we can buy Dean back, okay? Slavery is better than starving.” Sam struggled against his father’s hold, but eventually exhaustion won out and he went limp on the floor in silent sobs. How had this happened? How could he just be gone? Sam didn’t even notice his dad had let him go. For a few minutes he lay there and let the weight of what had happened sink in. 

_ Get up, Sammy. You gonna take this lying down or do something about it!? _

He could hear Dean’s voice in his head. Wiping away his tears he slowly got up to see his dad had gone to his bed and passed out again. Sam had to come up with a plan and he only had a few hours to figure it out. He knew it had been hours since Dean had likely been taken, there was no way to track the rover van down and he didn’t know where he would be taken. Plus, how was an unarmed fourteen year old gonna bust him out of a government training facility, which is likely where he was? Sam racked his brain on what to do, and he slowly formulated his new plan. 

As the sun came up, Sam watched the red shining clock on the night stand, waiting for it to hit six am and the curfew to be lifted. His bag was packed with all the essentials, and he clutched the map in his hand that he had plotted his course on. He had Dean’s duffle at his feet as well, every intention of seeing its few meager contents returned to its owner. Something shiny caught his eye and he knelt down to pull out Dean’s necklace from under the bed. Dean never took it off so it must have fallen off during the fight. Sam had no doubt Dean had fought. Sam smiled at the memory of the Christmas he had given that amulet to Dean and he slid it over his neck, tucking it in his shirt. 

Finally the clock hit six and it was go time. He hesitated only a second with his hand on the door knob, glancing back at the still form of his father. He had a hard time reconciling the caring father he had sometimes known to the man lying in the motel bed across from him. That man was not his father. That man was a stranger. As far as Sam was concerned, his father was dead, and all that mattered now was Dean. Sam took a deep breath and walked out the door. 

He drove for hours, fighting the blurriness in his eyes and gripping the steering wheel with both hands. He was glad that even though he didn’t have his license yet, Dean had taught him how to drive in an old parking lot a few times. He had been up all night planning his escape and now driving all day, thankful for the gas station coffee he was now chugging. He could almost hear Dean’s voice,  _ Don’t you dare spill that in my Baby! _ The Impala felt empty without Dean’s larger-than-life presence. 

Sam realized that his worst nightmare had come true and his big brother wasn’t there to wake him up and tell him it was all a dream. He had always feared that Dean would do something stupid or say something rash and get himself taken away. Worse, he feared that someone would come for him and Dean would sacrifice himself for his little brother. Never had Sam predicted that John would have sealed their fate. It was nine days till Dean’s birthday, too. Sam had already bought him his gift and it was stashed in the back seat now, wrapped in newspaper in typical Winchester tradition. 

Sam was gonna fix this. He owed Dean that much, after all Dean had done for him. 

Sam finally pulled up to his destination as the sun was setting. He cut off the engine and stared at the familiar house he hadn’t seen in years. Still the same old chipped siding he remembered. He was really putting all his eggs in one basket but there was no one else and nowhere else he could think to go. Getting out, he climbed the steps and knocked on the door. There were muffled foot steps, then the door swung open. 

“Hi, Uncle Bobby,” Sam gave him a weary smile. 

“Well look what the cat dragged in. If it isn’t Sam Winchester,” Bobby smiled at him with the same warm, bearded smile he remembered. “Where’s Dean?” 

Sam felt his bottom lip start to go, and he couldn’t help but burst into sobs as the old man and his last hope pulled him into the house.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean had tried at first to keep track of the passing of time. He thought maybe he would scratch a mark in the wall, but his hands were always bound. He thought he could watch the sunlight pass, but he never saw any windows. He didn’t even have a sleep schedule to work off. Every few hours the guards would take him for training - sit, kneel, sit, kneel, yes Master, no Master, over and over and over again till the responses came almost automatically. Not that he hadn’t fought at first, resisted, refused, gave a few smart ass remarks, but he could only handle the sting of a cattle prod or the cut of whip so many times. 

Alastair was there every time, his smooth silky voice directing every movement and sound Dean made. He was tired, so incredibly tired, he often missed a command not out of defiance but out of sheer exhaustion, which only brought down Alastair’s wrath that much harder. After a few hours he was brought to his cell, sometimes given water, though never enough, and maybe every fourth time some grey mush they called food. What Dean wouldn’t give for a big juicy burger. The cell was only maybe three feet by three feet so he could never really lie down and they always kept a bright fluorescent light shining on him from overhead. He could hear the muffled sounds of the other slaves through the cement walls, moaning, crying, or begging. He really wished they would just shut the hell up ‘cause it wasn’t gonna do them any good. He only ever stayed in his cell for an hour or so at most before he was hauled back out for training. 

Dean crouched in the cell with an arm up over his eyes to try and shield them from the offensive light, and leaned on his left shoulder since his right was covered in burns from the previous training session. He barely heard the cell door open and let out a small whimper at the thought of having to move again. 

“Come on, pretty, it’s time for your first eval,” Ralph sneered. Dean really hated Ralph. Dean thought he hated Tom, but Ralph was the most sadistic, taking real pleasure in Dean’s suffering. He crawled out of the cell and stood on shaky legs, keeping his eyes glued to the floor which was easier anyway then looking at the smug smile on Ralph’s face. “Good little bitch. Now move!” Ralph gave him a hard shove to the shoulder blades and Dean nearly toppled over but managed to catch himself. He was brought to the showers from the first night he got there, which seemed like ages ago now. 

Dean had been craving a shower. His skin was itchy and crawling from the sweat and blood caked onto it. He was shocked he hadn’t ended up with an infection, but that antiseptic spray that burned so much really seemed to do the trick. Still, he had longed for a hot shower with some of Sam’s nice smelling shampoo that he sometimes stole a few dollops of. The cold blast of the high-pressured hose was painful on his aching skin but he tried to focus on how good it would feel to not be so dirty. Dean was a one shower a day guy, maybe even two if the motel’s hot water heater was good. Being so dirty for so long had been its own kind of torture. 

He was eventually led, drip-drying apparently, to a room he hadn’t been in before. This room didn’t vary much from the training rooms he had been in. There were rings on the floor and walls to restrain a slave, but he did notice that there was no wall of tools here, like there was in most of the training rooms. He glanced around to see if he was missing something and felt a hard blow to the back of his head. 

“Eyes down, bitch!” Ralph growled. Dean clenched his jaw but refrained from retaliating. He couldn’t afford to piss Ralph off this early in a session. “Kneel!”

“Oh, Ralph, you have such a way with words.” It came out his mouth before his brain could process, and he felt the blow to the back of his knees. He would have face-planted, seeing as his hands were tied behind his back, if Ralph hadn’t grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. As it was, his knees hit the floor with a sickening crunch. 

“Talk back all you want, pretty. I already talked to Alastair and as soon as you get designated I get first crack at that pretty little ass o’ yours.” Ralph gave his ass a hard smack and laughed, walking out of the room. Dean gritted his teeth and tried to swallow down the fear at Ralph’s words. He hadn’t been tied to any of the rings and he had never been left alone in a training room before. He didn’t dare move. There was nowhere to go. His heart still gave a leap, though, and the small voice in his head that sounded an awful lot like Sam was yelling at him to get up and run. He flinched at the creak of the door and the sound of footsteps behind him. 

“Here is lot B-28,” said the familiar, silky voice of Alastair. Dean felt the fear in his gut at the sound of the man’s voice and hated himself for it. 

“How long have you been working him over, Ali?” said a raspy British voice that Dean had never heard before. 

“Oh, about a month now. He took longer than most to get the basics down but I always say the best ones take the longest to break.” The shoes shuffled around to stand in front of him. He stayed kneeling and kept his eyes glued to the floor, the exhaustion seeping into him as his adrenaline rush wore off.

“Still four weeks just on basics? I would say you were losing your touch, Ali, but I saw the four bitches you broke just last week in record time. So show me what he knows and we can talk your recommendation.” The British man stepped back against the wall and Alastair's shoes came into Dean’s line of vision. 

“Look up,” Alastair commanded and Dean raised his vision to the man’s chin. He caught sight of a cattle prod behind his back and swallowed down his nerves. “Good. Now look down.” Dean did as commanded again. “Get up.” Dean knew this would be harder especially after the blow Ralph had dealt his hamstrings, but he had practiced standing up from kneeling with his arms tied and slowly rose to his full height, head tipped down. 

“He’s a tall one, isn’t he?” the Brit crooned.

“Oh yes, we marked him at six foot one inch. Isn’t that right, boy?” 

Dean hesitated replying, but saw the arm begin to move.

“Yes, Master.” The words were like acid in his mouth. He was doing this for Sammy, to keep him safe. 

“And you are eighteen, boy?”

“Yes, Master,” Dean answered the Brit, knowing that’s what Alastair would want. Dean had missed his birthday. He was actually surprised to hear it had only been a month in this hell hole.

“What are your recommendations for him, Alastair? We have our big quarter auction coming up in a month, so we want to be sure he is fully trained by then.”

“Well, he could suit as a laborer - strong back and incredible stamina. He has been under the usual sleep deprivation but still manages to function at medium to high levels. He has known skills working on cars which could translate to machinery if we wanted to invest in a little extra training, or if a company wanted to.”

“Hmm. I do believe SucroCorp will be coming to the auction and Dick said he wanted at least two trained mechanics. Any potential as a house servant?”

“I wouldn’t say so. You saw how long the basics took to train. He isn’t docile enough for that - most people don’t want to have to spend hours whipping a house slave to heel.”

“Too true. That’s fine anyway, those barely go for a few thousand these days.” Dean’s body flinched at the feel of cold prongs on his shoulder. Alastair walked around him in a slow circle now, dragging the cold end of the prongs over his skin. “I know that look, Ali. You think he is pleasure slave material, don’t you?” Alistair gave a barking laugh. 

“Oh Crowley, you do know me so well. Just look at the bitch,” Alistair crooned, running the prongs up and down his skin. Dean fought back the urge to vomit. “Look at this fine lean muscle tone, that soft young skin, and that pretty, pouty-lipped mouth of his.”

“He has a nice ass, too. Bet I could get big dollars for it, with the right buyer of course. Has he been broken in yet?” 

“No, we figured we would wait for your evaluation first, make sure that was the best way to market him.” 

“Ever been buggered up the arse, boy?” Crowley laughed and Dean gritted his teeth together. 

“Answer him, boy.” Dean glared at the floor and a second later was crying out in pain as he toppled over, the burning shock of the prong pressed into his chest. “Answer the man’s question,” Alistair’s voice had a bored tone to it.

Dean took a few deep breaths before answering, “N-n-no sir.” His arms were screaming out in pain underneath him, but he didn’t think anything was broken. 

“Well, I am sure Ali here will fix that for you in no time.”

Pleasure slave, fuck toy? He couldn’t let that happen, he could survive a lot of things but that was too much. “Please, sir, I can be a great laborer, I can fix anything, you name it, domestic or foreign, and I worked on big machinery a little too.” 

Alastair backhanded him across the jaw and Dean felt the coppery tang of blood in his mouth. 

“Don’t you dare open that pretty little mouth unless I tell you to, boy,” Alistair growled.

“Boy has a point, Ali. Why limit ourselves? I don’t see it worth our time to train him any more than he already is in mechanics. If someone really wants him for that then they can do it. Be sure the lad is fully versed in his duties as a pleasure slave, however. Most of our buyers don’t mind a little fight but they don’t want to have to break one in all on their own.” Crowley scribbled something on his notepad and Dean’s heart pounded, threatening to crawl out of his chest. “I do envy you sometimes, Alistair. You get all the fun while I push all the paperwork.” Crowley stood over Dean, staring down at him. Dean wasn’t sure if he could move if he tried. 

“I do love my job. Now, you said I have one more month before auction? It’s tight, but I can make it work, but I think I better get started right away.” Dean didn’t like the sound of that one bit. He rested his head on the concrete floor a moment and shut his eyes. Maybe he would wake up and this would all just be a very bad dream. 

“Alright, I will let you work your magic. Who knows, I might even put in a bid on this one, such a pretty bitch he is.” Both men laughed and Dean heard the door shut. 

Slowly, Dean managed to get himself in a sitting position and rested his forehead on his knees. He started shivering all over and realized how cold the room was. It didn’t help that he was still wet and naked. 

How the fuck was he suppose to get out of this? There were too many guards and he was too weak to fight them. Even if he got outside he would never make it over the fence, and then what? He’d be naked and on the run and caught in a matter of minutes. Plus, he could never run, not when it would mean Sam might take his place. If he knew one thing it was that he would do anything to keep Sam from going through any of this. What he wouldn’t give for one more chance to see him, say goodbye properly. Dean made a decision then, though, for himself and even though it hurt he slowly, shakily got to his feet. When the two guards, Ralph and some shorter man he didn’t know, came into the room he was ready. 

Dean charged them, landing a kick to Ralph right in the groin and swung his head up to bash the other man in the jaw. The adrenaline pumping through him, he raised his leg to land another blow and felt a meaty arm wrap around his neck in a choke hold. 

“Christ! You little bitch, you're gonna pay for that!” Ralph growled and wrestled him to the ground. Dean struggled for breath, pulling against his binds. He saw stars behind his eyes before he slipped into unconsciousness.

He came to with a pounding headache. He moved to press his tongue to his dry lips but realized there was something in the way. He bit down and felt a rubber ball gag in his mouth. Blinking, he opened his eyes to look around and saw his outstretched hands in front of him cuffed to a ring in the floor. Same room, it seemed. He went to move his legs and felt a panic start to set in. He was bent over some metal frame, covered in leather padding, in the shape of a triangle, and his knees were buckled down to the floor. He was completely immobilized but he still pulled and tested the restraints. 

“Oh you aren’t going to break out of those, puppet, and you better get comfortable, I think we are going to be here a while,” the familiar silky voice whispered right in his ear, and he knew that if he wasn’t broken before, he was about to be. 

“Welcome to the rack.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello All, Okay I know I am posting two chapters back to back but I just got them edited and I really wanted to get the first Castiel chapter up and give you guys another perspective on things. Hope you like it. <3

Castiel leaned against the linoleum countertop in his kitchen, listening to the sound of his coffee maker bubbling and popping. He loved the sound of percolating coffee since it heralded his favorite drink. He was beginning to think it might be nice to have an alarm clock that sounded like that instead of blaring and bleating he currently had, when the tell-tale dripping sound came telling him it was done. Grabbing the whole pot and an empty cup, he shuffled over to his desk and pulled open his laptop. He hadn't bothered to turn on any lights but the small strip light under the cabinet. If it was too early for the sun to be up then it was too early for the lights to be on. The flashing light of a video chat popped up in the corner of his screen and he sighed, clicking on the icon.    
  
"Way to keep me waiting, Novak," Charlie chided him as soon as her video screen popped up.    
  
"Good morning to you too, Bradbury," he grumbled and filled his mug with the hot nectar of life, taking a sip.    
  
"Did you open the files I sent yet?"    
  
"Mmhmm, took a look at them last night." He stifled a yawn before continuing, "Did you find out how much I have to spend yet?" He pulled up the folder in question and flipped through the pages of listings. Face after face flashed by his screen with a small bio, stats, and minimum bid.    
  
"It looks like around two hundred K, which I know isn't much, but you only need one."   
  
"That might not be enough to work with. Maybe I’ll chip in some of my own." He hadn't wanted to go through too much of his funds, knowing he would need more for their plan to work.    
  
"No, Castiel. Remember, this is a marathon, not a sprint. You gotta conserve your money if we’re gonna pull this off." 

He only nodded at her and clicked through the faces on the screen.    
  
"Christ, this one is only ten years old," he frowned, staring at the terrified face of a little girl with her hair in a braid.    
  
"I know, they have a pretty big lot for next month."   
  
"And you are sure that Perdition will be there?"    
  
Charlie rolled her eyes dramatically, "Of course, that's the whole point. All our intel says he's going to this auction. In fact, I just got a copy of his flight manifesto. One Nick Perdition flying into Topeka on the twelfth."    
  
Castiel drained half his mug in a few big sips and winced as the hot liquid burned its way down.    
  
"I'm not even sure he’ll recognize me. I haven't seen him since we were kids." So much of their plan hinged on that tiny sliver of connection he had to Perdition. Once the Hand learned he was a second cousin to Nick Perdition, one of the wealthiest men in the country and one of the highest ranking Fist Faction leaders, they immediately began plotting how best to use him.    
  
"You are going to do great, Castiel, I promise. We wouldn't send you in undercover unless we had all our ducks in a row, alright?" She gave him a warm smile and he halfheartedly returned it.    
  
"I know, you're right. I'm sorry, I just don't want to let the resistance down." He glanced up at the screen again and clicked to the next face to see a pair of bright green eyes staring back at him. The boy was stunning, a mix of sharp and curved lines, full lips and fiery defiance behind his eyes. He scanned the boy’s info quickly.    
  
**Lot#:** B-28   
**Name** : Dean Winchester   
**Age** : 18   
**Height** : 6 foot 1 inch   
**Contract Length** : 10 years   
**Handicaps** : None   
**Years Served** : None   
**Recommended Use** : Mechanic Laborer/ Pleasure   
**Minimum Bid:** $150,000   
  
"Earth to Castiel," Charlie huffed and Castiel shook himself, wondering how long he had been staring.    
  
"Sorry, did you see Lot B-28?"    
  
"The green-eyed beauty? Yeah, I saw him. He is so out of your price range, honey. It’s a shame though, he's so young." Sadness tinged her voice and Castiel softened at the sound of it.    
  
"Tell me it's going to help... Tell me that we are going to find a way to stop them, to free these people." He stared back at the photo of the boy again.   
  
"That's why we are doing this. All of this is to put a stop to the Fist."   
  
"It could take years, Charlie, and what about the people suffering now? What about this boy, who is going to save him, huh?"  Castiel could feel the anger bubbling up, the injustice of it all.    
  
"You can't save everyone, Castiel. You can't be everyone's guardian angel."   
  
"I could be his, if I had more money to bid," he sighed, unable to take his eyes off the boy's face.    
  
"Look, I know this is hard, but you can't afford to save him. You need to buy one house slave, alright, just to keep up appearances. You will still be saving one life that night."   
  
He knew she was right, but it didn't make it any easier thinking of all the people he would have to watch be bought and sold that night. The idea of watching that green-eyed boy being dragged off in shackles and doing nothing about it made him feel sick to his stomach.    
  
"I'm sorry, Charlie. You’re always having to talk me down."   
  
"Meh, comes with the territory. That big heart of yours is what I love most about you, Novak," Charlie's warm eyes crinkled at the sides and her dark red curls almost fell in her face.   
  
"I will run through the financials you sent me and let you know if anything looks off. I don't know how you find half the data you do. This stuff is top level classified."   
  
"Oh, I have my ways, nothing is safe on the world wide web, not from Charlie Bradbury," she beamed with smug pride.   
  
"That reminds me, how did the raid go last week?"   
  
"Really well. They got thirty across the border, and no casualties."   
  
"That is good news. Was it Ash’s team?"   
  
"No, it was Garth's, if you'd believe it."   
  
"I wouldn't!" 

Charlie laughed. "I know, that guy is like a cat with nine lives. Alright, I gotta sign off, but I’ll try and touch base in a week, okay?"    
  
"Yeah, thanks Charlie. Stay safe, okay?"   
  
"Always do. Laters!" Charlie tossed him the peace sign and clicked off the video chat.    
  
Castiel sighed, he knew he should go through all the info Charlie had gathered on Perdition but he really didn't feel up to it. Pouring his second cup of coffee, he looked up the green-eyed boy’s file again. He wondered how he had ended up at auction. He was too young to have acquired his own debt, though he could have broken a law or committed some petty crime. More than likely a family member had sold him. It was more common than Castiel liked to believe. Most parents ended up in chains before they sold their own children, but it wasn't unheard of, not with the amount of money you got for a contract on a teenager. Plus, it looked like he had been brought to the farm just before his eighteenth birthday.  _ Cruel birthday present _ , he thought with a sad shake of his head.    
  
He closed out the folder and pulled up the file on Perdition. Nick looked just how he remembered. He was tall, very tall, with a strong, broad frame. His blonde hair was kept neat and there was a slanted leer to his blue eyes. Nick might not recognize him, but he would know Nick anywhere. Their mothers were sisters and would sometimes summer at the same beach house when he was young. Nick and his older brother Michael were much older then Castiel so they never really wanted to hang out with him.   
  
He looked at Nick's watery blue eyes and then to the photograph of his mother on this desk. The same slightly slanted blue eyes resided on her face. He missed her so much it ached. Some nights when he really missed her, he would pull out his cassette player and listen to her reading him his favorite book,  _ The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe _ . She had recorded it to help him sleep whenever she was away. He was a grown man of twenty-five now but he still couldn't help putting it on every so often. He wondered if she would be proud of him for joining the resistance, or if she would be mad that he was putting himself in danger. He had to believe she would be proud - his mother had been no coward. She had to be brave to walk away from her powerful family and never look back.    
  
He scanned through Nick's financial holdings, from his oil fields, to his freight company, to his coal mines. He was very diversified. He had never married, though he was always found on the society page of the big newspapers with a new girl of the week. Nick's current household in Los Angeles had three house slaves and four employees. Nick's previous pleasure slave had apparently died and Charlie's notes only read unknown causes. Charlie also noted that he almost always kept one young male pleasure slave in residence at all times but that not many survived more than a year or two. Castiel flipped through the file and wondered how he went through them so fast. Normally, pleasure slaves had one of the higher life expectancies.    
  
When he had studied all he could, the sun was starting to come up and he was through his third cup of now lukewarm coffee. Before he closed the files, he took one last look at the boy from lot B-28. Castiel kept calling him a boy in his head but he really was a man - a young man, but still. Something about him captivated Castiel. He felt like he knew him, though he was sure he had never met the lad before. He wondered what he hoped for him, whether he was better off laboring for a business or being a personal pleasure slave. He wished neither for the handsome young man.    
  
His heart felt heavier at the thought and he closed down the file, unwilling to look at those green eyes any longer. He looked down at the gold band on his wrist and rubbed at it idly.  _ You can't save everyone _ . Charlie's words still rang in his ears. He knew he couldn't save everyone, but why couldn't he save the bright-eyed man before the world took his fire and snuffed it out? 

He sighed, pushing all thoughts of the slave aside and readied himself for the long day ahead. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please heed the trigger warnings on this chapter my friends, this is a very rough moment for Dean.

_ "Dean, can I ask you something?" _ __   
__   
_ "What's up, Sammy?"  _ __   
__   
_ "It’s Sam." His brother’s voice took on that petulant teenage tone. "I was wondering- I mean, how do you ask a girl out?"  _ __   
__   
_ "You got a crush, little brother?" Dean grinned ear to ear watching the red creep up into Sam's cheeks.  _ __   
__   
_ "Well, maybe. Her name is Amy. She's in my history and science class." _ __   
__   
_ "Have you talked to her before?" Dean was struggling to stay serious, since he knew if he teased Sam too hard he would shut down and drop the conversation.  _ __   
__   
_ "Yeah, sometimes we sit together at lunch. She has good taste in books and movies," Sam shrugged his shoulders, tossing a rock into the lake and frowning when it didn't skip. _ __   
__   
_ "Well, tell her how much you enjoy her company and ask her if she wants to see a movie with you. It’s not that hard talking to girls," Dean turned the stone that was in his hand and gave it a toss, watching it skip four times before sinking into the lake.  _ __   
__   
_ "Easy for you to say. Girls fall at your feet." Sam scowled again and threw another rock, watching it sink with a kerplunk sound. "I'm a freak. Why would they go out with me?" _ __   
__   
_ "Come on, you don't give yourself enough credit, little bro. Just bat those big puppy dog eyes at her and I guarantee she will be like putty in your hands." _ __   
__   
_ "It’s still kinda scary," Sam said in a smaller voice. _ __   
__   
_ "Yeah, it is, I won't argue on that." Dean chuckled. Girls could be damn scary and hard as hell to understand. _ __   
__   
_ "Is it less scary to ask a guy out? Is that why you see guys too?" Sam turned to peer up him and it was Dean's turn to flush red.  _ __   
__   
_ "What are you talking about, Sam?" _ __   
__   
_ "You kiss girls and guys right? Is it easier with a guy?" Dean just stared at the completely earnest look on his brother’s face.  _ __   
__   
_ "Uh, how do you know I kiss guys?" _ __   
__   
_ "I saw you kiss that boy from school behind the convenience store a few weeks ago." Dean swallowed hard and looked for the right response but it just wasn't coming to him. "So? Is it less scary?" _ __   
__   
_ "Uh- well no, it’s not any less scary. Do you wanna kiss guys?"  _ __   
__   
_ "No, I don't think so, I would really like to kiss Amy though."  _ __   
__   
_ "And it doesn't bother you that I do?" _ __   
__   
_ "You want to kiss Amy?!" Sam exclaimed, turning a full-on bitch face to Dean.  _ __   
__   
_ "No, it doesn't bother you that I want to kiss guys?" _ __   
__   
_ "Oh... no, why would it? I don't care who you kiss." Sam smiled at him and tossed another rock to the lake, getting it to skip once this time.  _ __   
__   
_ "Look, whether it’s a girl or a guy you wanna kiss, it’s all the same. Just smile and listen to them talk and bring chap stick." Dean grinned down at Sam, who nodded. Sam never ceased to surprise him.  _ __   
__   
_ "Okay. If she says yes, will you drive us to the movies? I don't want Dad to take us, especially if he's been drinking again."  _ __   
__   
_ "Happy to, little bro." Dean pulled Sam into his side and ruffled his hair till he pulled free. " Just uh- don't say anything to Dad, okay? About me kissing guys?" _ __   
__   
_ Sam eyed him speculatively a moment but shrugged, "Sure, whatever."  _ __   
__   
_ "Come on. I think I see some better skipping stones down that way. We gotta improve your throw, man." _ __   


  
***********************************************

  
Dean pulled against the chain tethered to the floor, which he knew was a futile effort. He'd known this would happen, mentally tried to prepare himself for it. He just needed to survive it, then he could figure a way out. That was the goal, survival. But faced with it now, feeling tiny pieces of himself being chipped away bit by bit, he began to wonder if there would be any of himself left after all that surviving.    
  
Ralph’s loud cackle came from behind him and made his hair stand on end. Dean instinctively struggled to pull his knees together but the straps around them were as unyielding as the chain on his hands. He sucked in a deep breath through his nose and let it out slowly, fighting hard to keep from letting his fear show. He had been naked the entire time he had been at the farm but this was by far the most exposed he had felt.    
  
"Don't worry, pretty little bitch, gonna take good care of you," Ralph whispered in his ear and gave him a slap on the ass that made him flinch despite himself.    
  
"Just a moment, Ralph." Alistair's voice cut across him. The tall, sharp man knelt down so that he was only a few inches from Dean’s face. "Dean, I want you to understand how this works. You are going to learn how to service your Master. When you are asked to present yourself you will get on your hands and knees and present that sweet little ass of yours for him or her to use as they see fit. If they ask for your mouth you will open wide and do as you're told. You will do so without hesitation or complaint because all of your holes now belong to them." Alistair caressed the back of his bony fingers across Dean’s cheek. Dean jerked his head away.    
  
"Uh uh ah," he tisked at Dean. "See now, I thought you might be a bit uncooperative. Every session I am going to have you brought here and I will give you a choice." Dean's eyes shot up to meet his and Alistair only laughed. "Yes, a choice, Dean. You can go on the rack here," Alistair grabbed the metal frame and gave it a shake, "and every guard in this place will use and and abuse this sweet little body of yours till you break, and believe me, puppet, they won't go easy on you." Dean could feel the bile rise up his throat at the thought. "Option two, you submit to me and I take you off the rack, you present yourself however I ask and I promise you it will be much less painful and a much shorter process. For your first time, however, I am not going to give you a choice. I want you to get a taste for option one so you understand why door number two is so much more appealing." At this Alistair stood up and slunk to the back of the room, pulling up a chair and taking a seat.    
  
Dean had been pretty adventurous when it came to sex in his relatively short life. You didn't look like he did without getting plenty of opportunities. He'd slept with a few girls and a few pretty cute guys too. With guys though, he had always been on the giving end, not the receiving. He tried to think of what that last guy, Trevor, had asked him - did he like to pitch or catch? Dean liked to pitch, though he had considered maybe later on he might give catching a try. Never had he imagined this scenario.   
  
Dean felt rough calloused hands on his ass, spreading him open. He bucked against the restraints, hoping something would break loose, feeling the need to fight, to flee. Fingernails dug into his skin and he heard a tear of a condom wrapper. Without warning he felt himself breached. It felt like being split in two by fire and despite himself he screamed out into the gag. Ralph pushed all the way into him up to the hilt, with no preparation and only the slightest lubrication from the condom to smooth the way.    
  
"What a tight little virgin bitch you are," Ralph crooned and Dean shook all over feeling his body struggling to adjust to the intrusion. "Hold on tight, pretty baby," Ralph began a punishing assault dragging in and out of Dean's body. The pain was more than he could have imagined and he felt tears blinding his eyes, running down his face. It was too much. He fought back the rise of bile in his throat, not sure whether if he was to start choking if they would even bother saving him.    
  
"So nice and tight. You were made for this, bitch, it’s all you’re good for," Ralph continued the verbal assault as he carried out the physical one. Dean pressed his eyes closed and dug his teeth into the rubber of the ball gag. He could faintly tell that Ralph's way had gotten slicker and he didn't even want to think about why that was. He'd never imagined the pain and felt it all the way to his gut like someone had lit a blow torch inside him. He was completely and utterly helpless, he couldn't even beg for mercy if he'd wanted to. He was pretty sure in that moment there wasn't a lot he wouldn't do to stop the nightmare. Dean was close to losing consciousness finally, and while that seemed like a blessing, it also terrified him. With a final thrust and moan Ralph froze inside him, twitching.   
  
Ralph's huge frame collapsed against Dean, his hot breath on the back of his ear. Ralph stopped moving a moment and Dean stayed absolutely still, head turned as far away from him as possible. Breathing was hard now between Ralph's weight on his back and his nose now filling with snot.   
  
"Thanks for the ride, kid," Ralph chuckled then pulled out of Dean, making him whimper at the burn. He pulled in a few deep breaths through his half-clogged nose. He felt something dripping down his legs and tried not to think about it, feeling slightly grateful for the condom. At least it was over, he was alive, whether he wanted to be or not. After what seemed like an eternity, but was likely only a few minutes, Alastair got up and slowly walked over to him. Dean felt fingertips on his shoulder and shuddered.    
  
"Now now, puppet, buck up. The night is young, no passing out on me. By the time we are through you won't have any doubt exactly what you were made to do." Alistair stood and Dean felt panic rising again. It wasn’t over. "Ralph, how many men are on staff tonight?"    
  
"Oh, there are six others, Mark called out sick."   
  
"Right. Well inform the men that lot B-28 here will be on the rack. I expect each of them to pay the bitch a visit within the next few hours. The last one to go should report back to you and you can take him to his cell to think about all he learned today."   
  
Six more? That wasn't humanly possible. Dean was certain that it would kill him. For a second, Dean had a fleeting thought that maybe it would be for the best, he was no good to anyone anyway. Then he saw Sam's face with that big dimpled grin and too-long hair falling in his eyes. He heard Sam's laugh and felt his gangly arms wrap around his waist. He couldn't give up, he couldn't afford the peace death might bring him. He would have to endure this hell so Sammy didn't have to. He had never been so glad that his brother wasn't there to see him reduced to this.    
  
Boots walked over toward the door and Dean felt cool air on his skin as it opened.    
  
"Have a good night, sir," Ralph replied to Alistair.   
  
"You as well, Ralph, and remember, he’s no good to us dead." With that parting word the slinking foot steps left.    
  
"Hey Mikey! Tell the guys we got a live one for the night," Ralph's voice boomed and Dean continued to keep his eyes shut. He didn't think he was gonna wanna open them for a very very long time.    
  
A few hours later Dean awoke to find himself back in his cell. He didn't remember being put back in, though he did remember the guards... every... single... one. His body reminded him as well, feeling the ache down to his bones. It was pitch black in the tiny cell and he was curled in a fetal position on the floor. He tentatively reached a hand back to feel and was surprised to find it was clean. He felt like he'd been torn in half, but at least someone had cleaned the blood off him. He could smell more than feel the antiseptic spray. It healed wounds at an amazing rate, something he hadn't been able to puzzle out at first, because it seemed like a waste to heal him. He later realized that you could inflict more harm on a healed man without killing him. The faster Dean healed the faster they could bring him to the brink of death again. He couldn't sleep after waking, no matter how hard he tried. They'd be back, he knew they would.    
  
It wasn't long before Dean was brought back to that room, the scene of the crime as far as Dean was concerned. He had thought a lot about what Alistair had said. He knew he never wanted to be put on the rack again, but he also knew he had to try and fight, or he risked losing himself forever. He'd be damned if he gave in after the first night. Looking back, Dean laughed at his own arrogance. He fought and kicked and struggled against his captors with every meager ounce of energy he had. They always outpowered him always got him on the rack. Every night Alistair would come to Dean after hours on the rack and ask him if he wanted off. Every night Dean would shake his head. A few nights in he was fitted with a ring gag as well and found himself thoroughly fucked from both ends. He had really thought it would get easier to withstand, that it wouldn't hurt so much or scare him so bad, but he had been horribly wrong. Finally Dean felt the break, not of his bones or his body, but the break in his mind.    
  
"Is it the rack for you tonight Dean?" Alistair asked like he always did.    
  
"No, Master," Dean hardly recognized his own voice, fighting back the lump in his throat but unable to stop the shaking.    
  
"Door number two? Glad to see you are getting with the program. Present yourself to Ralph."   
  
"Yes, Master," Dean kneeled down on the floor and folded his hands in front of him. Alistair was true to his word, it was easier, physically at least. Ralph prepped him, used lubrication and they didn't even make him bleed. Things Dean never imagined being thankful for. After that Dean sucked off Tom's cock and managed not to gag too badly, again thankful for the condom. He had figured they didn't want to risk contaminating the merchandise.    
  
"What a good little bitch you were tonight. Liked taking all that cock, didn't you? You were born for this, puppet, and you are going to make the farm a lot of money."

Dean's soul had been stripped raw. He didn't have an ounce of fight in him anymore and he knew in that moment he had lost. Dean as he knew himself was dead, and the thing that occupied his body kept breathing for one single purpose - the same purpose that drove Dean in almost every difficult thing he had ever done, the only part of the old Dean that felt intact - the undeniable need to keep Sammy safe. And keep Sammy safe he would, even if it cost him his body, mind, and soul.    



	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello All,   
> Here is a Sam POV chapter for you guys, majority of this fic will be Dean and Cas and eventually some mixed POV's but for now I wanted to catch up with Sam.  
> <3 <3 <3

Sam sat at the kitchen table peeling a label off his Coke bottle. Bobby was on the phone, fighting with a parts supplier as he moved around the small kitchen, putting away groceries. 

Sam waited patiently for him to get off the phone. Patience was something Sam was working on, but in all honesty he sucked at it. Waiting was pure torture for Sam and he wasn’t any better at it two months later. Finally Bobby hung up the phone, slamming it on the receiver and sighing. 

“We only have two days, Bobby,” Sam said, watching the older man’s shoulders slumped, his back to Sam. 

“Sam-”

“Don’t start with that, alright? We aren’t out of time yet, we can still find a way.” Sam and Bobby had been going back and forth for weeks now. Sam was honestly surprised Bobby hadn’t kicked him out by now. Bobby scratched at his beard and turned to face Sam. 

“We aren’t gonna give up, Sam, but I also don’t want you getting your hopes up, ‘cause chances are we won’t be able to get him.” Bobby sat down across from Sam and the two stared at the old table top like it held all the answers. 

Sam knew Bobby didn’t have to take him in, didn’t have to help him find Dean, but he also never doubted that he would. Bobby wasn’t a blood relation, not his actual uncle, but he was the closest thing he had to family outside of Dean and his Dad. John had worked at Bobby’s salvage yard for years when Sam was really young. When times got tough and John had to travel for work he would sometimes leave the boys with Bobby. Sam always looked back on that time as some of the happiest in his life. 

“Look, we know he is likely at the farm in Topeka right? Cause its the closest to where we were staying. We also know that they are having an auction in two days of a large group of slaves. This is our chance to get him before someone else does.” Sam had spent hours on the computer searching for some sign of Dean showing up for sale. He dreaded it as much as he longed for it. “Look at this.” Sam said, and turned his laptop around so Bobby could see. “They are releasing the list tonight for the auction, and if he is on there we need to go - we just need to.”

“Calm down, Sam. Alright.” Bobby raised an eyebrow and Sam realized he had stood up out of his chair without meaning to. He sat back down, knowing he needed to do a better job keeping his emotions in check. “Now, let’s say Dean is at this farm and he is at that auction, exactly how you suppose we get him?”

This was the part they always got stuck on. They couldn’t break Dean out - those facilities were heavily guarded and the security on them was the newest technology. Sam had heard of several botched rescue attempts and none had been successful to date. If rebel groups did want to break out a slave or a group of slaves they usually tried it during transportation, but those still took a team to pull off, and intelligence of where and when a transfer would happen. 

“There must be a way to come up with the money,” Sam said halfheartedly, because they had discussed this option too and bottom line was neither Sam nor Bobby had access to that kind of money. 

“Sam, you know I would do anything for Dean. I would sell this house, sell my business, hell, I would sell myself, but even all that combined won’t add up to enough to buy your brother back.” Bobby’s voice was melancholy as he explained for probably the twentieth time. Sam knew that Bobby wanted to save Dean just like he did and he was still grateful to have at least one person on his side.

“What about John’s money? He must have made a good amount. If we put that together with the sale of the house?” But they had discussed this too, and John wasn’t gonna give up that money.

"Even if John would give the money, it’s not gonna be enough. Your brother is young, and he has a ten-year contract on him. He’s going to go for a lot of money. I guarantee we couldn't make his minimum bid." Bobby gave Sam a sympathetic look that only turned his stomach. Defeat was not an option.    
  
"Okay, so we can't buy him and we can't bust him out, but we have to go, Bobby. We have to at least know where he ends up." Sam had thought that through as well, and thought maybe he would have a better chance at breaking him out from his buyer than the farm.    
  
"Sam... look. We can't even get in there without an invite, you gotta pay admission just to get into an auction and I guarantee you it takes a gold band as well. Nothing but silver on either of us." 

Sam could feel the rage bubbling over and he threw himself up out of the chair. He drew his leg back and kicked the chair as hard he could, sending it flying across the kitchen floor.    
  
"Well, fuck! What the hell are we supposed to do, huh? Nothing?!" Sam was terrified, absolutely terrified that they would fail. He felt a burn in his eyes and blinked, realizing he was tearing up. "Bobby... please, we gotta do something, if they sell him and we don't know where he goes, he will be gone forever." Slave sale records are confidential closed items, mostly so that family members can't try to track down a loved one. If Dean was sold and they didn't see at auction who bought him, than they would never know who did, and what then?    
  
Bobby slowly stood up, ignoring the chair kicked across the room. Sam was already an inch or two taller, even at 14. Bobby didn't hesitate but pulled Sam into him, fisting Sam's shirt into his old, calloused hands. Bobby hugged him and Sam was stiff at first, rigid, feeling like he wasn't a child, and didn't need to be comforted like one. But the tears kept building and Bobby didn't move, and eventually Sam slumped, letting the tears go silently. When Bobby pulled back he held on to Sam's shoulders firmly for a moment.    
  
"Sam, I can't promise you we can save Dean. I can promise you we will try everything in our power to get that idjit back. If we can't find a way, then... you and I will just have to figure out how to move on without him." Sam glared at him through his tears which were thankfully slowing down. "Now, I know that's not what you want to hear or think about but you have to think about yourself too, Sam."   
  
"Myself? What does that matter if I can't find Dean?" His voice was more cracked and strained than he wished it was.   
  
"It matters. Do you think Dean wants you to throw your life away because of this? I'm sorry, son, but you know he wouldn't and I guarantee the only thing keeping that boy going is knowing you are out here free and doing okay. So if we can't come up with some kind of hail-mary then you are going back to school, and you are getting a degree and you are going to grow up and maybe help fix this fucked up world."   
  
"How am I supposed to do that, Bobby?" It was a genuine question, because Sam really didn't know how he could carry on and live his life knowing Dean was out there suffering the whole time.    
  
"I never said it would be easy, but you won't have to do it alone," Bobby turned back to the kitchen table and poured himself a glass of whiskey, taking a big swig of it.    
  
"John will come looking," Sam said in a low voice, looking down at the floor.    
  
"I talked to John about a week ago, Sam." This caught his attention and his eyes shot up to Bobby. "He called here looking for you, and you can't be surprised he did, Sam. There aren't many other places you would go."   
  
"Well? What did the bastard have to say for himself."   
  
"He wanted you to come home, and I told him you  _ were _ home." Bobby took another sip and didn't look at Sam as he continued. "You were smart enough to take your contract with you when you bolted so it's not like he can sell you without that. Plus I think he still holds out hope you will grow up to be a cash cow and take care of him. As far as he is concerned, at this point you staying here is one less mouth to feed anyway. I don't suspect he will bother us for a while, but we’ll keep an eye out. Keep your contract locked away safe till you hit eighteen."    
  
Sam looked at Bobby and was overwhelmed with relief. He hadn't realized how much the fear of John coming after him had been weighing on him. "I can't thank you enough, Uncle Bobby. I'm sorry I've been such a pain. I’ll pull my weight, I promise."   
  
Bobby waved off Sam's promises, saying, "Nonsense. You and Dean are closest thing I ever had to family. You don't need to thank me - not ever. Now why don't you pull up that auction list and let me know once it goes live, alright? I’m gonna make some calls and see if I can find someone that will be at the auction who can maybe feed us intel." 

Sam nodded at Bobby and picked up the chair he tossed, sitting back down at the table.    
  
Sam sat and refreshed the screen on his beat up old laptop. Finally the screen changed with a big  _ Auction Listing Available! _ popping up in bold. 

“Hey! It’s up, but- but fuck I can’t get on it without a log in.” Sam started to scramble for ideas. He could try to hack the site but it was so heavily encrypted and he didn’t want it getting traced back to Bobby. “Hold on, I got an idea.” Sam wasn’t great at hacking but his friend Billy at his last school was, and he’d spent a lot of time learning from him. He managed to scramble his IP address so he couldn’t be traced and then began hacking into the site. He wished he had paid more attention when Billy was showing him some of these things. 

Bobby leaned over his shoulder, peering down at the screen. 

“I got it!” Sam yelled and hooted in triumph. 

“Well go on, start scrolling, boy wonder,” Bobby teased, his voice just a little lighter. 

Sam scrolled through picture after picture. It made him ill to his stomach to see all the faces of the different people and how their lives would change forever. Finally, after nearly an hour, Sam’s hand froze on the mouse pad. Bright green, defiant eyes stared back at him… Dean. Sam felt a stone drop in his stomach at the sight of him. The face shot looked like it was taken early on, but the two full body pictures looked more recent. Dean looked thinner than Sam remembered but his muscles seemed tighter, and there was a tiredness to his face. The eyes though, they were completely different in those pictures. There was something blank about them, withdrawn. Bobby let out a breath, reminding Sam he was there. 

“Scroll down. Lets see how much they have him listed for.” Sam did as Bobby asked and they both read the info section below Dean’s pictures.

**Lot#:** B-28   
**Name** : Dean Winchester   
**Age** : 18   
**Height** : 6 foot 1 inch   
**Contract Length** : 10 years   
**Handicaps** : None   
**Years Served** : None   
**Recommended Use** : Mechanic Laborer/ Pleasure   
**Minimum Bid:** $150,000   


“Pleasure?” Sam asked, tilting his head a little and having to brush the hair out his eyes. For a moment he almost smiled, thinking of how mad Dean would be to see his hair so long. “Mechanic I get, but what does pleasure mean? Is that house slave?” He turned a little and looked up at Bobby’s face, which had gone shockingly white. 

“It’s a... Oh hell, Sam, you know what a pleasure slave is,” Bobby grumbled and his pale face flushed a little. Sam stops and then it hits him, pleasure slave, sex slave… that can’t be. 

“This isn’t right. Why would they- I mean, Dean gets around a little, but- he wouldn’t do that,” Sam said with conviction. Bobby sighed, avoiding direct eye contact. 

“I was afraid of this. We just better hope someone buys him as a mechanic. Dean’s a great mechanic, he can fix a carburetor faster than I can. He’s gonna be fine, Sam, you hear me? Just fine… I’m going to bed. I’ll see ya in the morning. Don’t stay up too late.” Bobby patted his shoulder consolingly and headed toward the stairs. 

Sam knew Bobby was trying to convince himself as much as Sam that Dean would be a mechanic. Sam felt the bile rise in his throat as he read the word  _ pleasure _ again and barely made it to the sink before throwing up. It was a while before he felt able to face the computer screen. He looked at the face pic again, into the eyes of the strong big brother he remembered. 

“I’m coming for you, Dean, you hear me? I am coming for you,” Sam whispered to no one. Closing the computer, he felt the weight of the world, the weight of his brother’s life, resting on his shoulders. He finally succumbed to sleep, thinking of all the things he would get for his brother when he came home… like pie, he couldn’t forget the pie. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello All,  
> Its Auction Day, hold on tight I decided to split POV for this chapter so you get a little of it from Castiel's view and Dean's.

It was auction day. Not that anyone had told Dean of course but it was obvious enough. The building practically hummed with activity. For the first time in weeks Dean saw some of the other captives at the farm as they were all shuffled in and out of the shower stalls. He knew they kept them all isolated from each other as another tactic to break them, but seeing the other naked, frightened people huddled against the wall brought him no comfort. He was pretty sure though that not much would bring him comfort anyway. He kept his eyes down and tried his best not to draw too much attention.    
  
They had left him alone the past few days, only opening his door to feed him or give him water. His body had healed remarkably fast and the old pains felt like echos of their former fire. Dean was just so tired. No amount of antiseptic spray could fix exhaustion. He felt like if his head was cracked open, there would just be mush inside. 

Dean stumbled as they pushed him out of the showers and into a small side room with a doctor's table. This set off alarm bells in Dean's groggy mind, and he blinked as a few vestiges of his self-preservation instincts tried to rouse him.    
  
"On the table," one of the guards ordered. Dean hesitated, which earned him a hard shove in the lower back. He climbed onto the table and a woman in a white lab coat came into view, wheeling a tray over towards him. His eyes glued to the tray, Dean didn't notice the guard putting leather straps on his wrists. The woman had her blonde hair tied up in a severe-looking bun and big round eyes scanned over her tablet screen. His heart began to thump out of his chest as he stared at the covered tray wondering what the hell else he was gonna have to endure.    
  
"Lot B-28, eighteen year old male, potential sale as a pleasure slave. Correct?" The woman's eyes glanced up at the man standing behind Dean. The man must have nodded as the woman continued, "Well, aren't you just a pretty little thing?" The sickeningly sweet tone only made the bile rise in his throat.   
  
"Lillith, how long you think it will take with this one?" a rough voice asked from somewhere behind Dean.    
  
"Oh, about an hour. We aren't doing any major modification on this one, less is more, I think. I'll buzz when we are done with him." She waved off the guard with a bony finger and turned back to her tablet. "Meg?" the blonde called and a smaller woman with brown, wavy hair, also in a white lab coat, sidled up to her.   
  
"You want the works on him?" The woman that must be Meg flashed Dean a wicked smile and winked at him.   
  
"Cut his hair. I want a close shave on his face, then full body hair removal - laser treatment since it will last a few years and that can be a selling point in auction. Alistair has requested the following drugs be administered. Hmm we will also want to find an appropriately-sized cock ring. He is fairly well hung for someone his age - may as well put it on display. I am going to check in and see how the others are faring." Lillith's heels clicked as she headed for the door, but she stopped before leaving. "Oh, and you will find his new wristband on the tray. Make sure it's fitted nice and tight and document incineration of his old band." With this last proclamation she swept out the door, leaving Dean alone with the brunette.    
  
His heart was still pounding out his chest - he had no idea how he could still feel this scared after all he had been through already. The brunette grabbed a syringe off the table and swayed up to him with a leering grin that any other time may have been incredibly hot but now only came off as incredibly disturbing.    
  
"Hey, handsome. Now, I'm not supposed to give you this little happy drug till after you are all prepped, but you're looking like Bambi staring down the barrel of a shotgun. So why don't we get this show on the road a little faster, aye buttercup?" She grinned at him and before he could even flinch, the needle slid under his skin and the drugs hit fast. Dean felt his body go limp and it became very hard to keep his eyes open.    
  
"Wha- wha- ," Dean tried to stammer but his tongue felt thick and heavy.    
  
"Shhh sweetie, Meg's got ya. Just rest your pretty head." 

Dean closed his eyes and tipped his head back. He felt the tingle and burn of something running over his skin but he was just too high to give a crap. Clippers whisked through his hair and there was the scrape of a razor on his face. He came to a little when slender fingers grasped around his limp cock.    
  
"That won't do, now will it, sweetie?" There was another prick in his arm and after a few minutes he felt a strange surge of heat and tension. He shifted on the table a bit, pulling at the restraints on his arms as he looked down to see a sizable erection growing. He hadn't gotten hard in weeks, which under the circumstances wasn't surprising, but his body felt a bit backed up and now he felt like he was about to burst. Meg grinned at him and patted his shoulder before slipping on a small silver ring around him, effectively trapping any hope of release.    
  
"Bitch," Dean spat between pants of frustration. Meg only chuckled and ran some chap stick over his lips, keeping a firm grip on his jaw so he couldn't twist away.    
  
"There. Now you're ready for the show, handsome. You're gonna fetch a pretty penny, I bet." 

Dean heard a loud snapping sound and looked to see Meg pulling away his old silver ID band.    
  
"Wait, you- you can't..." Dean tried to protest, as his last link to freedom shined as it was flung down a chute marked ‘incineration’. Meg walked back over to him as Lillith came back in the room.   
  
"Now now, no tears or I will give you a reason to cry, you little slut," Lillith sneered at Dean who hadn't even noticed he had started crying. Meg grabbed his wrist firmly and snapped into place a shiny new copper band... a slave band. Dean couldn't look as she grabbed a tiny blowtorch and welded the band shut.    
  
"How long’s his contract?"   
  
"Mmmm, I think ten years. The band should last that long, they are making them more resilient now than before," Lillith replied, tapping away at her tablet. She scanned a barcode on his new band and gave him one last once-over. "Nice work, Meg. I think he is ready for the floor. Call in Tom."   
  
Dean drew in a deep breath as one last injection was shot into his arm and suddenly nothing seemed to matter anymore as he floated far far away from that room and that place, and his own useless body.   
  
  
**************************   
  
Castiel fidgeted with his tie, staring at the tall chainlink fencing. The sweat on his brow sent a shiver down his back. This was such a bad idea. He pulled up his trench coat around his shoulders and stuffed his hands into his pockets. He wondered if he couldn't have found a less perilous way to help the resistance, but who was he kidding, anything with the resistance was life threatening. Thinking of his mother, he managed to rally his courage and march toward the surly-looking guard at the entrance.    
  
"Name?"   
  
"Castiel Novak."   
  
"Band?" Castiel presented his wrist for the man to scan and it pinged with what Cas hoped was an approving sound. "Alright, head on in Mr. Novak. The pre-screening line up has begun already and the first lot up for auction starts in an hour."   
  
Cas just nodded his thanks and headed past the man into the building. Inside, he found a long hallway, and he could hear voices at the end of it. He walked toward the open door, and found himself in a very large room with a few hundred people milling about. The walls were clinically clean and white, and Cas could see servers bustling about with drinks and hors d'oeuvres. The crowd chattered lightly and laughed as they congregated in tiny groups. The flash of gold wristbands was hard to ignore, but Cas made sure his was easily visible as he moved through the crowd, snatching up a glass of champagne. Looking around, he noticed a good amount of attention being paid to the far wall and upon closer inspection he saw why.   
  
Forty-odd naked people were lined up against the back wall, standing in a row. The merchandise, Castiel thought to himself, cringing. Still, this is why he came, these people are why he was doing this, to put an end to this madness. He schooled his face into the pure apathy he saw on his fellow buyers around him, and moved to get a closer look. 

As Castiel got closer he saw each person had a letter and number painted on their chest, likely signifying their lot number.    
  
"Brochure?" A cheery looking server tugged at his sleeve and he took the brochure from her, reading the stats on the different people up for auction. Cas looked up at the row of people, and then he spotted him - lot B-28. His heart sped up a little at the sight of him and his feet moved before he had a chance to overthink things. He found himself standing in front of the lean, six-foot-one frame of Dean Winchester.   
  
The man was breathtaking, completely smooth skin stretched over lean muscle. His arms were bound behind his back and his head was tipped so his chin was practically resting on his chest. He seemed pale, but chances were he hadn't seen sunlight in god knows how long. Castiel's eyes drifted down and widened at the sight of a substantial erection currently fighting to get free from a very tight cock ring. Cas swallowed hard and looked back up at the man's hidden face. Cas wasn't the only one who had noticed him either, as a few people come to inspect him. One man even flicked Dean's cock, and chuckled as he flinched.    
  
"Oh, this one would be fun, I bet," the portly man chuckled and Cas felt the sudden urge to rip the man's tongue out. "Lift your head, boy, let us get a look at that pretty face."   
  
Dean didn't move and there was a sharp crackle of a cattle prod from a guard standing nearby, making Dean lift his face up, but keeping his eyes fixed firmly at the floor. If Cas had thought the man's body was impressive it had nothing on the beauty of his face. The pictures had not done him justice.    
  
"Castiel Novak, is that really you?" an all too familiar voice cut across the room and he looked up to see Nick Perdition striding over to him. People parted for him like he was Moses at the Red Sea.   
  
"Nick Perdition. If you aren't a sight for sore eyes," Cas plastered on his biggest grin to match the one coming at him.    
  
"As I live and breathe! How are you, little cuz?" Nick patted Cas on the back, hard enough to make him jolt forward a bit.   
  
"Doing well. Yourself?" Cas had to stay focused, this was his opening.    
  
"Oh, splendid. I wouldn't think to find a man of your convictions here?" The accusation was thinly veiled, scratch that, not veiled at all.    
  
"I am looking for a house slave, actually," he replied, waving the brochure in front of him.    
  
"Really? Now there's a surprise. Gave up your mother's old outdated morals, have you?"   
  
"She and I didn't always see eye to eye. I plan on making something of myself." Castiel held his head high and hoped he came off confident enough.   
  
"Good for you, cuz. Glad to hear it. You know, if you are looking for work you should make an appointment with my secretary. I have a few openings I might be able to squeeze you into." Nick's eyes left Castiel for a moment and zoned in on Dean who was still standing stock still not a few feet from them. "House slave, huh?" Nick purred, not taking his eyes off Dean. The predatory glare in Nick's eyes was terrifying.    
  
"Well yes, but it never hurts to look around, does it?" Castiel tried for a conspiratorial chuckle. 

Nick was hardly listening now as he walked up to Dean.    
  
"Turn around, boy." Nick spun a finger in the air in front of Dean's face. Dean slowly and awkwardly moved turning to expose his backside to them. Despite the huge amount of drugs Cas had no doubt were pumping through his veins, he still noticed Dean's whole body tense as Nick ran a single finger down his spine. Nick's hand followed the length of Dean's back and turned to give the round ass a hard smack. To Dean's credit, he barely flinched and made no sound. "Well, I know what I am bringing home," Nick purred again and Dean spun slowly back around to face forward.    
  
Castiel felt the strong urge to take off his trench coat and wrap the boy up in it, sweeping him far away from all these prying eyes. He was cursing himself again for not having brought more money. He'd pay anything to take that broken look off that beautiful face.    
  
"Come on, Cas, you're sitting with me. I have box seats." Nick wrapped an arm around his shoulder and swept him away through the crowd, which moved to fill the empty space they left. Everything was going to plan and Cas should feel elated, but all he felt was a huge overwhelming nausea at the whole affair.   
  
Nick had big box seats in the large amphitheater. They chatted about Nick's many business ventures and his lackeys hurried about them serving drinks and food till Cas had to insist he was done. The theater filled and a man in an all-black suit strode up to the podium, his voice carrying over the spectators.    
  
"Hello everyone. Thank you for coming to our auction today. We have a real good bunch of merchandise this year, darlings, so sit back and get those paddles ready," the man crooned to the crowd. The auction moved at a pretty good pace - one person after another was led on stage and the Auctioneer, Cas thought his name was Crowley, rambled on about their many talents and potentials. Cas waited till a young girl was led on stage. She couldn't have been older than thirteen, and was thankfully wearing a small dress. Her curly blonde hair was braided down her back and her eyes shifted nervously amongst the crowd. She was easily one of the youngest ones there and right in Castiel's price range.   
  
He threw up his paddle for the first bid and after a few short back and forths Crowley's voice carried across the theater, "Sold to the scruffy looking fellow in the front."

Cas felt like he might pass out from the stress but he was sure that was the last thing he needed to do.    
  
"Good pick cuz, that girl will make a good little house worker and she's young enough you can train her up how you want," Nick said, nodding in approval. Well, there was one life saved at least, and Cas could take some solace in that, though his slight feeling of success was quickly crushed when the green-eyed boy took the stage to a collective murmur from the crowd.    
  
"Now, I know you have all been waiting for this young lad, haven't you?" Crowley waved an arm at Dean who seemed slightly more alert than earlier, darting glances from side to side but keeping his head bent down. "This fine specimen here is healthy, trained and ready to go. Now he has been proven as a mechanic scoring 10/10 on large machinery and auto." A soft murmur of appreciation went out through the crowd. "But I am sure you all can think of better uses for this fine young thing, can't you," Crowley wiggled his eyebrows at the crowd. "Now opening bid is 150. Do I hear 150?"    
  
The bidding moved fast though Nick waited till it was close to 300 before jumping in. Crowley walked behind Dean, now holding the microphone and kicked the boy’s feet apart, running a seductive hand across his abdomen. "Good thing I brought my wallet, aye," Nick chuckled and elbowed Cas who managed a small smile.    
  
The bidding intensified and seemed to be down between Nick and another man seated way in the back of the auditorium that Cas couldn't make out. Nick looked like a lion on the hunt as he threw his paddle up for 550, and that was the last straw for the other man as Crowley called out SOLD at the top his lungs. Dean was ushered off the stage and Nick whooped in success.    
  
"Congratulations, cousin. You got yourself a fine mechanic laborer it seems," Cas tried to keep as sincere a smile on his face as he could but was glad Nick wasn't really looking at him.    
  
"Laborer? Oh Cassie, I'm gonna plow that fine sweet ass into the ground. I just bought myself some good old-fashioned stress relief. Worth every penny." Nick tossed back his drink and sighed. "Come on, let's head out and gather our loot shall we, little cuz?" Cas was glad he hadn't actually turned green, but managed to keep his feet steady as he followed Nick out of the booth. He tried to take some solace in the fact that he might get to see the green-eyed boy again, and hold out a tiny flame of hope that maybe he could still find a way to save him.    



	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello All,  
> Here is another chapter you know the drill, MAJOR TRIGGER WARNINGS, this chapter is rough, and Dean is in a pretty hopeless place. Hang in there, cause there will be a light at the end of the tunnel though it takes a while to get there. Hope you like it.  
> <3

Dean was trying hard to focus on keeping his feet under him as the guard pushed and shoved him down another back hallway. He was still blinking from the bright light of the auditorium and felt like the whole thing had been a blur. The drugs they'd given him had been strong but not strong enough to wipe away the memories of sheer embarrassment at being left to stand naked in a room like that, poked and prodded by passersby. He'd been far too ashamed to meet anyone's eyes and just prayed that it would all be over soon.    
  
He was unceremoniously shoved into a small side room that held a counter and cabinets and medical chair in the middle. He cringed at what possible torture they would inflict on him now as a parting gift.    
  
"Move your ass, pretty boy," Ralph sneered, and Dean only just now noticed which guard was with him. He slowly and awkwardly climbed onto the chair, wincing in pain from his swollen and aching dick that bounced against his stomach. His nostrils flared in pain but he bit back any sound, not wanting to draw Ralph's wrath any more than necessary. "Gonna miss having that fine ass of yours to plow, boy. Don't miss me too much," Ralph chuckled and slapped the side of Dean's ass, making him flinch. The door was quickly opened again and Lilith walked in, staring down at her tablet.    
  
"Ralph, can you go see if Jose needs any help with lot B-05? I think the drugs burned off too fast." 

Ralph nodded and tossed a wink at Dean as he strode out of the room. 

Lilith didn't say a word as she strode over to Dean and began fastening his hands down to the arms of the chair. He thought about protesting, since the woman was so small compared to his frame. It would be suicide though - the building was swarming with people.    
  
He kept his still bleary eyes fixed on her hands and zoned out a moment, wondering about who had bought him. It had been difficult to see into the audience and he had known better than to raise his eyes up and look at any faces. He still wasn't even sure why his buyer had picked him yet. He clung to the small hope that he would find himself in a pair of coveralls and under some machinery - anything but naked and on his knees.    
  
The door opened and a man strode into the room. His presence filled the room and Dean would swear the temperature dropped a few degrees. He wore a perfectly tailored suit and Dean caught the flash of light ice-blue eyes and blonde hair.    
  
"Hello, Nick. It's nice too see you again," Lilith practically purred at the man.    
  
"Lilith, you're looking lovely as always." The man was talking to Lilith but staring down at Dean, who felt his heart thumping out of his chest.    
  
"We have your lot here ready to go for you. Is there anything you are going to want off the menu before you take him? We are having a sale on collars and all physical modifications are 30% off this auction." 

Dean felt the bile rise in his throat and fought to swallow it back down.    
  
"Look at me, boy," Nick, his new Master, commanded. Dean did exactly as trained raising his eyes to stare at the mans chin. He took note of the man’s sturdy build and thought he had a good amount of muscle over Dean. "You are pretty, aren't you? I'll take the green leather studded collar - should go well with his eyes. And two bottles of silencer."   
  
"No castration, muting, branding, or piercings today?" Dean was pretty sure if he wasn't already pale those words would have turned him ghost white. He noticed a grin creep onto the man's face that sent a shiver down his spine.    
  
"Not today. I think the spray will work fine for travelling and I like to hear them scream now and again. Though you may have something on the piercings. Both nipples done with these gold rings."   
  
"Traditional ball setting or garnet stones?"    
  
"Garnet stones. Gotta make my pet look pretty, don't I?"   
  
"Very well, sir. That should only take about an hour and we’ll call his lot number when he is ready for pick up."    
  
The man walked closer over to Dean who quickly diverted his eyes away. The man ran the back of his fingers on his cheek a moment. "See you soon, pet." With that the man strode out of the room leaving Dean to his fate.    
  
\----------------------------   
  
Dean was in and out of consciousness as he rattled around the back of the SUV. It was big enough that he could curl up on his side, which was an improvement to his cell at the farm. His nipples still burned from the recent piercings but his cock was finally feeling better now that the ring had been removed. He was wearing standard issue white cotton slave pants and they were the first clothing he had worn in months. Part of him knew he should be looking out the window trying to keep track of where they were going but he just didn't have it in him.    
  
He snuck his fingers up to run them over the leather collar around his neck. He felt a gold tag hanging off the front ring but didn't see what it read. There was a chain padlocking his collar to a ring in the SUV. He carefully moved his fingers to the back of the collar and felt a locking mechanism that had a small keyhole on it. That collar wasn't going anywhere without strong shears to cut the thick leather or the key. He wasn't exactly up for an escape attempt at the moment anyway. The last thing he had seen as they tossed him in the back of the car was the tall blonde man tucking his contract papers under his arm. Sam's name was on those papers, and it killed any desire he had to flee.    
  
"Here we are, pretty," a voice called from the front of the car as it came to a stop. Dean slowly moved to sit up and got into a kneeling position, head bent before his Master came around to open the back of the SUV. He figured it was probably best to keep his new Master happy, at least to start. The door opened and he blinked a moment at the bright sunshine and shook at the cold. It was the tail end of winter and thin cotton pants alone were not appropriate attire. The tall man leaned in and unlocked the chain from the car, yanking on Dean’s collar to pull him out of the car. The cold asphalt stung on his bare feet but he just bit his lower lip and tried to stay quiet. 

“Follow me, pet,” the man cooed in a tone that was laced with promise of something Dean was sure he wouldn’t want. He followed the man toward the house and risked a glance up. It was enormous, more of a mansion or a manor than a house, with huge white pillars and big gothic-looking front door. A stern looking man was by the door, standing with his arms behind his back like a soldier. “Hello, Gordon. How is everything at home? All well, I hope?”

“Yes, sir. I see you made a new purchase. Should I have Tessa make preparations?” 

Dean was thankful once he followed the two men into the house and out of the cold. 

“That would be wonderful, Gordon. I want to run through a few items with you in my study but I’d like to take a few moments with my new pet first. Grab the blueprints for the new McArthur building and meet me in the study.” 

Dean kept his eyes glued to the floor and focused all his attention on trying not to shiver, still cold from their brief walk outside.

The tall man turned to face Dean and he could feel his eyes all over him making his stomach twist a little. “Can you speak?” 

Dean cleared his throat and the words came out in a croak, “Yes...sir.” He had no time to react as a hard blow hit him across the face, sending him sprawling out onto the floor. He saw stars for a moment and tried to catch his breath, but then he was being pulled up and strangled by his collar. 

“On your knees,” a harsh voice barked out and Dean scrambled up to his knees gasping for breath as the collar’s stranglehold was released. He panted and shook, hands gripped hard to his thighs to try and steady himself. The tall man slowly bent over, keeping his voice light and friendly. “The name is Master, pet. You’d do well to remember that going forward. Now, as this is your first day I will go easy on you and not take you out to the post, but one more misstep and…” The man stood back up and didn’t finish his sentence, the threat implied. “Well, it seems your silencing spray has worn off at least, so you will have to be careful with how you use that tongue of yours.” Giving a harsh yank on the leash Dean scrambled to his feet to follow the man, eyes glued down as they headed up a massive spiral staircase. 

Dean couldn’t believe all the doors he saw. There were just so many rooms - he’d never been in a house like this before. He followed the man, Nick, no,  _ Master _ , into a room at the far end of a long hallway. It must have been the man’s bedroom because there was huge a big four poster bed with posts bigger than Dean standing at the far end. Nick un-clipped Dean’s leash and tossed it on the floor. 

“Remove those pants. You won’t be needing them. Then stay and wait.” Nick ran a cool finger under Dean’s chin. Dean was so nervous now he didn’t think he could move if he tried. Fuck, he hated himself for being such a coward but his hands shook as they fumbled with the drawstring on his pants. He dropped the pants around his ankles, stepping out of them and folding them. He held them to his chest. He should have been used to being naked by now, but something about being alone in a room with this man completely exposed made him want to run and hide. 

He could hear the man rummaging around and tossing a coat on the back of a chair. He kept his eyes glued down as he listened to the sound of shoes being kicked off and more clothes rustling. “You are a pretty thing, aren’t you? Your pictures didn’t do you justice. I am sure you had hopes of being a laborer, but I am sorry to break this to you - you are only good for one thing, pet.” The man slowly circled Dean and he was glad at least to not be shaking anymore. “You are just a warm pretty place for me to put my cock. The sooner you accept that the better off you’ll be.” 

Dean wanted to rage, he wanted to yell at the man that that wasn’t him. He was more than that, he could go to fucking hell. He pressed his lips together and bit back those words, but the surge of anger gave him just a tiny bit of courage. 

Nick hooked a finger under his collar and pulled Dean over to the edge of the bed, then put a hand to his back, pressing him face first into the blankets. His nipples ached under him, still fresh and raw from the piercing. Nick had stripped off his clothes as Dean caught glimpses of bare flesh. Nick moved quickly and Dean was sure this hadn't been the first time the man had done this as his wrists were bound behind his back with rope. He felt cuffs on each ankle locked to the bedposts. Dean’s breathing became erratic as he tried very hard to prepare for whatever this man had in store. He desperately wanted to pull his legs together as memories of the rack all started to come flooding back. 

“There, that’s better. Now pet, normally I would like to take my time but it’s been a long day so you get the short and fast version.” Nick moved behind Dean and he felt a rough hand grasp his wrists in a painful vice hold. Nick pushed inside Dean in one quick and shocking thrust that pushed a cry out from between Dean’s lips. He felt the fire of being split in half as tears welled in his eyes. The bastard hadn’t even prepped him first. He gritted his teeth to hold back any more sounds as he heard Nick chuckle just sitting there balls deep inside him. 

“Oh, you are just as tight and warm as I thought you’d be. Keep your little mouth shut, my pretty bitch.” With a growl, Nick began a punishing assault. Dean managed not to make a sound though it was a very near thing a few times. It felt like a fire was tearing him apart from the inside. His wrists were pushed so hard into his back he feared his shoulders might dislocate at one point. Dean pressed his eyes closed and waited, knowing that it couldn’t last forever. “Fuck!” Nick called out as he made a final thrust into Dean, quivering behind him in release. Bastard hadn’t used a condom. Not that Dean was surprised, and considering the circumstances he was surprised that even registered. 

Nick pulled out of him and he held back a whimper at the final stab of pain. He felt empty and used in a completely new kind of way. He took a few slow ragged breaths and stayed perfectly still. Nick moved, pulling on a pair of khakis and a white button-up. He didn’t say a word to Dean as he cleaned and dressed and he wondered if he was suppose to stay there or not. Nick sauntered over to him and patted his rear like he was a damn horse. 

“Atta boy. Tessa will be up to tend you. I have business to see to, but don’t worry, pet, I’ll be back, and then we will take our time.” With that horrific promise Nick strode out of the room leaving Dean bound and used, feeling just like the inanimate object he now was. 

He didn’t know how much time passed before he heard the door open and close behind him. Thin delicate hands were suddenly at his wrists, untying the ropes that were digging into his skin. He turned his head to see a young woman standing behind him, pulling the last knot undone. She glanced at him and flashed him a small, sad smile. Dean felt the red creep up his cheeks in utter embarrassment to be found in such a compromising position. The woman didn’t seemed at all shocked by it, however. 

“My name is Tessa.” The woman’s voice was soft and kind as she knelt by his feet to undo his ankle cuffs. “What’s your name?”

He stood up, facing her and hesitated a moment until he saw the flash of her copper band and managed to croak out, “Dean.” 

“Well Dean, let’s get you cleaned up. I’ll grab you something to eat - you must be hungry.” The woman was wearing a grey slave dress, simple but practical, and her dark brunette hair was tucked behind her ears. He nodded at her, cringing a little at the sight of red spots on the carpet and moving gingerly behind her as she lead the way to a small side bathroom down the hall. 

She started the shower and handed Dean a white bar of soap. “He likes rose-scented soap, so be sure to only use this soap when you shower. Don’t worry about the carpet, I’ll clean it up.” She patted his arm, giving it a little squeeze before closing the door behind him. The bathroom was bare, no shower curtain, no towels, no cabinet, just a tub with a single shower-head, toilet, and sink. Dean didn’t lament that there was no mirror since he wasn’t sure he could ever face his reflection again. 

Dean stepped into the warm water and let the silent tears go in hard racking sobs as he watched the pink water swirl down the drain. He bit down on his fist so he didn’t risk being heard and closed his eyes, wishing for home, wishing for someone to come and take him far away from this new hell. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All,  
> I know I just posted a chapter but I felt the urge to get this one posted because Castiel and Dean finally meet! like some actual conversation. I know its taken a bit to get here, but I hope you all enjoy.  
> Thanks!

Cas bounced nervously as he rang the bell at the extravagant house. It had been six long months since the auction, and Cas felt sweat on his brow. He'd been working non-stop as a project manager for one of Nick's newest construction projects, proving himself a useful employee, and loyalist to the Fist. It had been the longest six months he could remember, and this was the first opportunity to be invited to Nick's house, to hopefully get closer for intel. His nerves had nothing to do with seeing the green-eyed man again. Not at all.    
  
He checked his phone to see a text from Jody saying that she got Claire enrolled in classes online today. Cas regretted not having thought the slave-buying process through - he hadn’t realised how hard it was to set a person free. In fact, it was more than frowned upon, it was illegal, and if caught, the state would simply repossess them. Claire's parents were dead now so she had no family to be returned to anyway. Cas and Charlie had worked feverishly those first few weeks till they found a member of the resistance, officer Jody Mills, who was willing to take the girl in as her charge.    
  
Cas had grown to like Claire. She had a lot of spunk once the trauma of being at the farm had subsided some. He was eternally impressed by her resilience. She was at first reluctant to leave Castiel's home, but soon she took to Jody. Cas got weekly updates now.    
  
Cas heard footsteps approaching and the door was opened by a stern-looking man in an all-black suit. Eyeing Castiel up and down like he was something stuck under his shoe, he plastered on a fake grin. "You must be Castiel. Please, come in."    
  
Cas followed the man inside and waited while he locked the giant door behind him. The house was enormous and ostentatious and it suited Nick to a tee.    
  
"I'm Gordon Walker, Mr. Perdition's right hand man and head of his security." 

Cas took the proffered hand, having read up on Gordon extensively. The man was a known sociopath.    
  
"Nice to meet you," Cas replied, glancing around. There were banging and shuffling sounds down the hall and a glorious smell coming from what must have been the kitchen.    
  
"Come with me - he is in his study finishing up a few things." Gordon led him down the hall and knocked lightly on a door, before gesturing for Castiel to enter and closing the door behind him.    
  
The study was bigger than most of Castiel's apartment. At the far end was a large cherry wood desk where Nick sat, hands resting on blueprints and a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose. Castiel cleared his throat and Nick looked up, breaking into a smile.    
  
"Hey, Cuz!" he called with genuine happiness to see Castiel. With how much he loathed Nick, it was hard to reconcile that to the greeting he just received.   
  
"Hello, Cousin. More blueprints I see?" Castiel asked, approaching the desk.    
  
"Always. No rest for the wicked, aye?" Nick winked and turned to look under his desk a moment, saying, "Off and to your spot." Castiel frowned a moment and heard a shuffling sound from under Nick's desk. A man came crawling out to the side of the desk and planted himself kneeling with his hands in his lap and head bowed. Castiel froze a moment, failing to take his eyes off the man, wondering if it could possibly be Dean.    
  
Nick gave a big laugh that made Castiel jump. "Recognize my little pet, do you? Yes, he's been a little difficult here and there but he came around eventually." Nick's phone buzzed on his desk and he picked it up.    
  
"Hello... No, that won't work... I told them one week, that is it... hold on a moment," Nick pulled his cell away from his face and walked toward Castiel. "Cuz, I have to take this call. Why don't you wait here, pour yourself a drink? The wet bar is stocked and I might be a while, so feel free to use my pretty cock warmer over there however you want." Nick winked at Castiel who stood speechless, and with a pat to his shoulder marched out of the room, closing the door behind him.    
  
Silence filled the room and Castiel stole a glance over at Dean, stock-still, kneeling by the desk. Castiel didn't have the slightest idea what to say, so he went over to the wet bar and poured himself a glass of what must have been very expensive bourbon on the rocks. Dean didn't move, but Castiel could feel the man's eyes tracking him across the room.    
  
Castiel couldn't take the silence any more and, taking a sip of bourbon for courage, he cleared his throat. "Hello, Dean."    
  
The man stiffened a moment before clearing his own throat. "Master."   
  
"My name is Castiel. You can call me Cas if you wish." Dean's eyes lifted a little, but didn't go above Castiel’s navel.   
  
"I don't think that's a good idea, Master." Dean's voice was raspy and hoarse, and Castiel felt bile in his throat at the thought of how long Dean may have been under that desk, warming Nick’s cock in his mouth.    
  
"Alright. Can I get you some water? You must be thirsty?" Castiel tried again, pouring a glass of water. Dean licked his lips, eyeing the glass, but shook his head before dropping his eyes again. He knew Dean was thirsty but he didn't push, figuring it might get the man in trouble. Instead, he moved toward him and sat down on a love seat by the window. He made an effort not to stare, but there were bright red welts and barely-healed scars across the man's back.    
  
"Will Master be wanting my services?" the rough voice asked, barely above a whisper. Castiel looked down at him, horrified.    
  
"No, certainly not, I - well, no thank you, Dean." Castiel replied, a bit more flustered than he meant to sound, but fuck, that was an awkward conversation to have with anyone. Dean looked slightly abashed and also relieved if the relaxation to his shoulders was any cue.   
  
"Master, may I ask... How do you know my real name?" Green eyes flashed up to meet Castiel's for half a second before they diverted down to the carpet again.    
  
"I was at the auction where Nick purchased you. I read your name in the brochure."  _ And read it over and over again on the site _ . Dean simply nodded his head. Silence fell back over the room as Castiel sipped his drink. Dean shifted uncomfortably back and forth but never dared to change position.   
  
"Where are you from, Dean? And please feel free to look at me, I promise I won't get you in trouble." Castiel hated the downcast subservient look on Dean's face, but he also selfishly wanted to see Dean's eyes again.    
  
Dean hesitated, seemingly looking around the room a moment but did raise his eyes to at least flicker between Castiel's eyes and throat. "Lawrence, Kansas."   
  
"Any family?"   
  
Dean worried at his lower lip a moment before responding, "A brother."   
  
"Older or younger?" Cas asked hoping to get more than a two word answer from him.    
  
"Younger." 

Guess not. Castiel sighed.    
  
"I am an only child but I grew up with all my older cousins. I used to wish I had a younger brother." Castiel smiled at the thought, thinking it might have been nice to not feel so alone.    
  
"Yeah, little brothers are great, but can be a pain," Dean cracked a small smile like he was remembering something, and it lit up his face.    
  
"Your brother drives you crazy sometimes?" Castiel asked hoping to get more of that smile. 

Dean rewarded him with exactly that.    
  
"He hated getting his hair cut. Used to have to drag him to the barber and even then he never let me have it cut more than a few inches. Used to tease him he liked it long to hide that big head of his," Dean gave a small laugh that he quickly choked back and dipped his head down.   
  
Castiel smiled at him all the same. "He sounds opinionated."   
  
"You could say that. I was gonna take him to get it cut the day I, the day I left… keeping that kid outta trouble was a full time job." Dean's face dropped a little and a melancholy seemed to settle over him. Castiel looked closer at Dean's face, his fine features, dimpled cheeks and even faint freckles. This was slightly marred by a split lip and black eye that was in the purple and green stage of healing.    
  
"Sounds like he is lucky to have you." Castiel realized his blunder a minute too late, realizing the man's brother didn't exactly have him anymore. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bring up unpleasant memories."   
  
"It's okay, really, it’s nice to talk about Sam," Dean said quietly but kept his eyes glued down. Castiel went to respond when the door to the study swung open and Nick came striding back in.

“Sorry ‘bout that, Castiel. Are you ready for a quick tour before dinner?” Nick beamed at him and Castiel stood, smoothing out his coat and setting down his drink. 

“Yes, please. This house is impressive, Nick. How long have you been here?” 

“Oh, about five years now. I tore down the original house and expanded, I’ll show you the back patio. Pet, come.” 

Castiel followed Nick through the house with Dean trailing behind them, head down and stark naked. Castiel knew it was common for slaves to be deprived of clothing but they weren’t normally marched about in such a way. Nick showed off his living room, dining room and elaborate kitchen, before taking him out to the back yard which had an expansive rose garden. In the middle of a clearing stood a tall, wooden pole, about half the height of a regular telephone pole, with a four-foot ring of gravel surrounding it. It seemed odd in the middle of such a lovely garden. 

“It’s a beautiful garden, Nick, but what is that post for? You into tether-ball still?” Castiel joked and Nick gave him a wicked smile. 

“That’s my whipping post, for when the slaves...” Nick turned and eyed Dean a moment, who had somehow managed to shrink a few inches, “get out of line.” 

Castiel frowned a moment and then remembered the lash marks across Dean’s back and it became much clearer. The very thought of the monster standing next to him tearing into such beautiful flesh made Castiel see red. The fact he was able to school his face into cold indifference was an absolute miracle.

“Hopefully you don’t have cause to use it often,” Castiel managed to get out with relative calm.

“Oh, not too often, but between you and me,” Nick leaned in conspiratorially, “sometimes it’s good to hear them scream. Let’s them and everyone else here know who is in charge. Am I right?”

“That is a clever thought - punish one to teach the masses,” Castiel smiled at the sadistic bastard and hated the strained look on Dean’s face.

“Come on, let's go inside. I’m starved and steak is on the menu tonight. I hope you like it rare - I refuse to overcook my meat.”

“Rare sounds great. I hate when they try to pass off shoe leather as a sirloin.” 

Nick wrapped an arm around Castiel’s shoulder and together they marched into the house, Castiel all too aware of the green-eyed shadow behind them.

Dean knelt by Nick’s chair all during dinner, while a petite brunette served them each course. Castiel watched as Nick would occasionally drag his fingers through the man’s hair like he was patting the head of a dog. Dean swayed a little, looking, if Castiel had to guess, exhausted and dehydrated. They chatted about work and told old family stories from when they were kids. Gordon interrupted a few times to have Nick look something over or take a phone call. 

“You like him, don’t you, Cassie? Don’t lie to me, I saw you eyeing him all night. He is a fine specimen, isn't he? I was thinking I might sell his services for breeding. His offspring might fetch a pretty penny for a pretty face.” Nick chuckled to himself. “But honestly, my offer still stands, I keep the house cold. If you’d like him to warm you, just say the word.” 

Castiel really wasn’t sure if it was a test but he cleared his throat and hoped to find the right answer. “That is a generous offer. I do find your pet incredibly beautiful, but I am perfectly comfortable for tonight. Maybe a rain check?” Castiel had to be more careful not to stare at Dean so often or he would get himself and Dean in trouble. 

“Your loss then, but you should consider getting one of your own. Maybe with your next bonus?”

“I am sure my bonus wouldn’t cover a slave half as nice as yours,” Castiel said praisingly.

“We shall see, Castiel. I hear good things about you so far on the McArthur contract. Keep up the good work and we may wanna move you to corporate with the big dogs.”

This was the exact opening Charlie kept harping about. “That would be really wonderful, Nick. I promise I wouldn’t let you down.”

“No… you wouldn't,” Nick’s tone almost had the hint of a threat behind it, but he wiped it all clear with his big charming smile. “Dessert?”

They finished dessert sometime later and though Castiel was not the strongest at small talk he could hold his own well enough. Nick left to take yet another call, leaving Castiel and Dean alone in the entryway yet again. Castiel, having a thought, dug into his pocket and pulled out a Hershey kiss. Being a chocolate-aholic, he always had a few in his pockets. He unwrapped it and handed it to Dean, nodding at him to take the candy. 

Dean stared down at the kiss for a minute, in awe of it, and darting a quick glance around, popped it in his mouth. The look of sheer joy that flashed across his face made Castiel want to shower the man in chocolate and anything else he desired. Dean seemed to savor it for a minute before finishing and chanced a look up into Castiel’s eyes.

“Thank you, Cas,” he whispered with a small smile, and ducked his head as Nick strode back into the room. 

“Sorry again, Cassie. So don’t forget to call Gordon Monday and set up that meeting.”

“I promise I won’t. Thank you for dinner, Nick.” Castiel gave Nick an awkward hug and cast the green-eyed man one last glance before heading out into the night.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi All,   
> Here is another chapter for you, a little more from Dean's point of view. Hope you all are hanging in there.  
> <3

Dean had gotten with the program as fast as he could at the Perdition house. The first month had been the worst, when everything he did seemed to anger the man. Dean’s whole existence became set on one goal, keeping his Master happy in the hopes of avoiding pain. The problem, as Dean learned quickly, was that pain was mostly what kept his Master happy.

Dean still cringed thinking back to his first whipping. He had accidentally passed out during one of their play room sessions. Nick had dragged him out of the room and outside by the collar while he weakly struggled, pleading for mercy between gasps for breath. Nick had strung him up so his feet barely touched the gravel and brought the whip down hard and fast. Despite his utter exhaustion he had cried out in pain with every lash. He remembered the cold feeling of the blood as it ran down his back. At some point he had passed out, and came to finding himself still strung up and alone. If it had been a colder night he was certain they would have found him dead in the morning.

The physical pain was a constant companion, along with his Master’s many humiliations. He thought he could stand all of that, manage to live through it, if it wasn’t for the endless loneliness. Nick had forbidden the other slaves from talking to Dean. He wasn’t sure why, since they all seemed to chat with each other. There were three house slaves, Tessa, Jo, and Anna, three of the prettiest woman Dean had ever seen. At first, Dean had figured they were pleasure slaves as well, but the Master never laid a hand on them, except maybe a back-handed slap if they didn’t move fast enough. No, Dean was the sole focus of his Master's sexual desires. He figured the isolation was just another torture tactic, and it was wearing him down. 

That was, until Castiel came. The man had actually looked at Dean like he was a person, someone with something to say. It didn’t hurt that the man was beautiful too - Dean had never seen blue eyes as stunning as his. Not that he dared to look at the man’s face too long. He had seemed so different from the others, he couldn’t fathom how he was related to someone like Nick. 

Dean knelt on the floor of his Master’s bedroom and felt a small tingling of hope. It had been two months since Castiel first came, and he had overheard Gordon say that he was coming back tonight. He hoped maybe they would get a moment alone, and maybe Castiel would talk to him again. It would be so nice if someone talked to him, not at him. He knew it was unlikely - no one would want to spend time talking to him, he was only useful for one thing now. Still he couldn’t help but hold out a tiny bit of hope. 

“Pet, over here now!” Nick barked as he stood, straightening his tie. Dean crawled over to him and bowed his head, trying not to tense up. “Hurry up and suck me off, and you better finish me before our guest arrives.” 

Dean quickly unzipped Nick’s fly using his teeth, since his hands were still cuffed behind him from the fucking he had received that morning. He used his nose to nuzzle out his Master’s erection. He was thankful his Master had at least showered and he sucked down the full length, working as fast as he could, licking and sucking. He didn’t dare incur his Master’s wrath, especially before Castiel came. 

His Master’s length was substantial, slightly thicker and shorter than Dean’s own unattended cock. He couldn’t remember the last time he came, but he did remember receiving a beating for it. His Master began to ride his face now and fisted his hair painfully. Dean tried to breath through his mouth and not gag as his Master thrust down his throat. He made sure to cover his teeth since Nick had threatened to knock them all out if he ever felt them. Finally his Master came down his throat with a final thrust and shudder. Dean struggled to breathe as he swallowed it all down, cringing at the bitter salty taste. Eventually Nick pulled away, keeping a firm grip on Dean’s hair. 

“Alright pretty, go downstairs and kneel by the door to greet our guest.” Nick let go of his hair with a shove so Dean fell back on his cuffed hands painfully.

“Yes, Master,” Dean replied hoarsely and crawled out of the room, not daring to stand till he was out of sight. He was beginning to think his knees would get callouses from being on them so much. He wasn't even sure if that was a thing. He hurried down the stairs as fast as he could manage, leaning against the banister when he felt dizzy from hunger. Finding his spot he gritted his teeth at the ache in his joints as he lowered himself down into position. He really wished he had his hands free - the ache in his shoulders was beginning to throb.

The doorbell rang and Dean felt his heart rate pick up at the thought of seeing the man again. It was Anna who floated past Dean to answer the door, opening it and bowing to let the man in. A cold wind swept in behind him and Dean couldn’t help the shiver that ran through him.

“May I take your coat, Master?” Anna offered and Dean saw the flash of tan coat in his periphery. 

“Uh, no thank you, I will keep it on for now. It’s very chilly tonight,” Castiel replied with that deep gravelly voice Dean remembered. He swallowed hard, wondering if the man would notice him or not. 

“Please come in and have a seat in the living room. Master will be down shortly,” Anna answered in her lightest, most submissive voice. 

“Thank you.” The man began to walk past where Dean was kneeling and paused. “Well, hello, Dean. It’s nice to see you again.” 

“It’s nice to see you as well, Master,” Dean replied, feeling a rush of something nearing excitement. 

“Are you coming to the living room?” Castiel asked, and Dean wondered why he always seemed to ask Dean things rather than telling him to do things.

“No, I must wait for Master,” he replied, knowing better than to move from his spot till Nick returned.

“Well, I hope you join us tonight, Dean.” With that, the man swept off after Anna. Dean flushed a little that the man wanted to see him again and quickly chastised himself.  _ He likely only wants to stare at your naked body like everyone else _ . Just a pretty hole to fuck, just like Nick said.

Dean didn’t have to wait long before Nick came down the staircase, Dean flinching at every footstep. Nick, however, passed right by Dean like he wasn’t even there and moved toward the living room. Dean wondered if he was supposed to follow, sure he’d get a beating for not following as much as for not staying still. He decided waiting was his best bet and stayed were he was, singing an old favorite song in his head to distract from the searing pain in his knees. 

“Dean, Master wants you in the living room immediately,” Anna said in a hushed whisper behind him, snapping him out of his trance. Dean struggled to get to his feet but everything was so stiff and he gasped at the pain of it. He suddenly felt thin hands at his elbow, guiding him up to his feet.

“Thank you,” Dean said, barely above a whisper, and Anna flashed him a small smile before running off toward the kitchens. Dean made his way toward the living room and heard voices as he approached. 

“Yes, Uriel is just not getting the job done. I was thinking it’s time to move him to the managerial position at the coal plant. Would you be interested in taking up his post?” 

“Well uh, I dunno. If you think I’m ready then I would be grateful for the opportunity.” Castiel’s voice was warm and rough and Dean loved the sound of it. 

“You’re a Perdition by blood if not by name - you’re ready,” Nick chuckled and turned his head as Dean entered the room. “There you are, you useless piece of shit,” Nick growled at him and he tried hard not to follow his instincts to flee. 

Instead, he fell to his knees. “Sorry, Master. Sorry, sorry, so sorry.” Dean felt a panic attack coming on as Nick moved off the couch and strode over to him. He tried to stop the shaking, willing himself to be still, knowing it would only make his Master angrier. 

Nick put his hands on his knees, bending his face down next to Dean’s. Reaching out, he wrapped a hand through Dean’s collar and twisted harshly till he choked and gagged. “You better be sorry. Now get to your place and stay there.” Nick held the collar for one second longer before letting go. Dean sucked in a long, ragged breath, fighting back the cough as hard as he could. Nick went back to his seat and Dean shuffled over next to the couch, taking steadying breaths. 

“Sorry about that, Cassie. Sometimes I wonder why I spent so much on him. Pretty to look at but not a brain in his head.” Nick sneered and slapped the side of Dean’s face.

“That’s alright, you didn’t buy him for his brain, did you?” Castiel’s voice had a funny tinge to it, like he was going for lighthearted but missing the mark. Castiel’s comment cut straight through Dean like a knife in the gut. A firm reminder of who he was and who Castiel was.

“That’s the truth,” Nick let out a sigh and there was a tinkling of ice cubes in a glass. “You know, some creatures in this world need a firm hand, a guiding presence. Just think how this pitiful creature would be wasting its life away now, if not for me. I have given it a purpose it didn’t have before. You are grateful aren’t you, pretty pet?” Nick’s voice took on a sickeningly sweet melodic tone.

“Yes, Master,” Dean replied, licking his dry lips at an attempt for moisture. The sound of ice cubes clinking in glasses made him incredibly thirsty. 

Anna came back into the room then, carrying a cell phone in her outstretched hand. “Call for you, Master. It’s Atlanta.” 

Nick stood, snatching the phone out of her hand.

“Sorry again, Castiel. No rest for the wicked, aye. Please enjoy your drink and Pet, make sure he has anything he wants.” Nick patted the top of Dean’s head and strolled out of the room, yelling at whoever was on the other line. 

Dean felt weariness settle over him as Nick left the room, his shoulders immediately relaxing a bit. He chanced a look up at Castiel and saw him shifting in his seat a bit. He should offer to go over and relieve the man’s tension.

“How are you, Dean?” Castiel asked suddenly and it again felt so strange to hear his old name. 

“Um, fine, Master,” he replied, almost feeling his old sarcastic self coming through,  _ Oh yeah I am peachy fucking keen. _

“Stupid question I suppose. It is nice to see you again, though this cold weather I could do without. Do you get out much?”

“Not much, Master, not unless I am being punished.” Going outside only ever meant one thing - the whipping post. 

“Oh- I see then.” Castiel shifted again in his chair and was playing with his trenchcoat in his hands. 

“Can I help you relax, Master?” Dean thought this might be something semi-tolerable, to make this man feel good. 

“I um- don’t think that is a good idea, Dean.” 

Dean slumped a bit. He was only good for one thing and Castiel didn’t even want it. He should have known better. He really was useless. 

Castiel stood and travelled across the room to sit in a chair next to Dean. He lowered his voice. “Dean, please, it’s... not that I don’t want you… You are a very handsome man, and I find you very attractive, but it wouldn’t be right for me to… take advantage of you.” Castiel said this in a hushed voice and despite all of Dean’s training he couldn’t help but turn to look up at the man. Staring into those blue eyes was like staring into the sun. 

“I don’t understand, Master.” Dean croaked out, watching the emotions play across the man’s face. 

“I would never ask you to do something you didn’t want to.” Castiel reached out a hand and placed it on Dean’s bare shoulder. He ran a thumb back and forth. Despite himself, Dean leaned into the soft touch. He couldn’t figure out what this guy was angling for. He closed his eyes a moment as the man brushed his fingers through Dean’s hair. It was different then when Nick pet his head. When Nick did it he felt like a dog, less than human, but with Cas the gesture felt somehow intimate. 

“If I gave you water would you drink it?” Castiel asked seriously. Dean licked his lips again and darted a glance at the door. Before he could respond, Castiel held the glass to his lips and tipped it back. Dean drank feverishly but carefully, so as not to spill. Once he had drained the glass, Castiel went and refilled it again, taking a sip of his own. 

“Thank you, Master,” Dean managed to say, a bit easier now after the water. 

“He doesn’t feed you much, does he?”

“Enough, Master.” Even now he felt it difficult to say a word against the man. 

“Doesn’t look like enough, I can count all your ribs.” Castiel let out a frustrated sigh. 

Dean just shrugged, he didn’t have an answer for that, his Master gave him water most days, and food maybe once a day tops, just enough to keep him going. His stomach gave a traitorous growl at the thought of food. 

“Someone hungry?” Nick chuckled striding into the room. Dean shrunk down as Castiel pulled back his hand. 

“I am famished, myself. What are we having for dinner?” Castiel asked, smiling brightly. Dean realised he was blocking Dean from Nick’s view. 

“We are having lasagna tonight, I believe. You're going to love it.” Nick signaled and Castiel followed him. 

Dean decided it was best to stick close, figuring he would need to make some kind of amends with Nick to avoid a punishment later. He knelt beside his Master’s chair and Castiel sat on the seat next to him. It was Jo who came out to serve them drinks, her blonde hair tied back in a ponytail as per protocol.

“This wine is delightful. I haven’t had wine like this, well... ever.” Castiel hummed a little with pleasure as he took a sip. 

“Yes, I own a vineyard in Virginia. It’s the only wine I will drink,” Nick purred at the compliment. Dean was beginning to get the distinct impression Castiel was sucking up to Nick bigtime. As Jo brought in their plates of food, the smell of warm melted mozzarella and garlic bread reached his nose. His stomach cramped and gave a loud growl he couldn’t hide. 

“Hungry are we, pet?” Nick chuckled and Dean clenched his jaw, mouth watering at the smells of the dinner. “Well, I don’t think you’ve earned food yet, little bitch. Why don’t you crawl under here and let me know just how hungry you are.” Dean heard the sounds of his Master's zipper and blushed in shame. Humiliated but without any option, he carefully made his way under the table and took the man’s limp cock in his mouth.

“He does seem very thin, Nick. Do you use a supplemental with him? I hear they work wonders.” Castiel’s voice travelled over the top of the table. 

“Yes, I actually did notice he has gotten thinner than I normally like them. It’s just that he infuriates me so he rarely deserves a meal. I considered getting supplements so that when he does eat, his calorie content is higher without the need for more meals.” 

The two men talked and Dean listened to the clinking and scraping of silverware over his head as he strained his jaw to keep the flaccid member on his tongue. His arms ached and it was very hard to balance there without the use of them to put a hand on the chair. He knew if he was forced to stay there much longer he would slip off and then it would all be over.

By some small miracle, Nick received another call and smacked Dean in the face to get off him as he left the room to take it. Dean stayed where he was, knowing Nick would be back soon. He stretched and wiggled his jaw and flexed his fingers. 

“Pssst, Dean.” A whispered rough voice came from next to him and he saw long fingers extending toward him with a bite of bread. He hesitated - if Nick caught him eating without permission it would be suicide. The smell of buttery bread was too much of a draw, however, and Dean leaned over, taking the proffered bread from those long elegant fingers. He chewed and swallowed as fast as he dared and looked over to see another bite being offered. Dean ate what must have amounted to a whole piece of bread before Nick’s tell-tale steps returned. 

He couldn’t figure out why this man was being so nice to him but it took all his self control not to jump in his lap and beg to be taken home with him. They finished their meal, Dean resuming his position, which was slightly more tolerable with some food in his stomach. 

All too soon, Nick was walking Castiel to the door, with Dean trailing behind feeling much like the kicked puppy he must appear to be.

Right as they entered the main hall there was a loud crash from the dining room. Nick’s face turned beet red in fury. “Just a moment,” he snarled and stomped off toward the sound of the crash. Dean cringed for whichever of the girls had dropped the tray. 

Castiel leaned over to Dean, and held out two chocolates toward him giving him a sympathetic smile. “I know it isn’t much but, it’s all I can do.” 

Dean, still not having the use of his hands, leaned forward and Castiel popped them in his mouth. The taste was just as divine as the first chocolates Castiel had brought him. His eyes rolled back a moment in pleasure and when he opened them he felt tears welling there. 

“Thank you, Castiel,” Dean said again in a whisper and they both simultaneously cringed as there was loud yelling and the sound of a pot banging on the floor. It was going to be a long night if Master was in this kind of mood. No matter who made him mad he always turned to Dean to vent his frustration. 

Castiel placed a steadying hand on Dean’s shoulder as he took a few breaths to try and quell the rush of emotions flooding him. He felt overwhelmed by Castiel’s kindness, and incredibly sad at his leaving. The tinge of terror at being left with Nick was an ever-present emotion as well

“Sorry, Castiel. Insolent little slut can’t carry a simple tray. I swear, next auction I will have to see about getting more competent house slaves.” Nick grumbled. Nick leaned in and gave Castiel a hug, slapping him on the back. 

“Always good too see you, cousin. Will you be coming up for the holiday party?” 

“I suppose I could. Will, uh, Michael be there as well?” 

“He usually bails on my holiday party but he swears up and down this year he will come. It should be fun. Maybe I will even dress Pretty here up like an elf or a present that can be unwrapped.” Nick gave a chuckle. “Have a safe drive, Castiel, and call me in the morning.”

“Yes, I’ll do that. Have a good night, Nick.” Castiel moved to the door and Dean caught just the flutter of a trench coat and then he was gone. 

He felt Nick’s eyes on him before he spoke. “Come with me, pet. We are going to teach Anna a lesson, and then you are going in the hole until I deem you have repented enough to come out.” 

Dean opened and closed his mouth like a fish, wanting to protest, to beg, but he knew it was futile as he watched his Master stride toward the back door, whip now in hand. Nick was going to take his pound of flesh from Anna’s body this time, and going to torture Dean’s mind instead. Dean had spent the night in the presence of the sun - he guessed it was only fair that he was now cast into darkness. It was a small price to pay, he supposed. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello All,  
> There is a lot of info in this chapter, and some hurt/comfort. (also unimportant side note, we meet Michael this chapter and too me I imagine him looking like Patrick Dempsey)  
> <3

"Damn it, Charlie," Castiel sighed, pressing his forehead into his hands. "You said you would come with me."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry, but look, we think they have my picture circulated within The Fist and we can't risk one of them recognizing me." Charlie did sound truly repentant but he was too upset to be near forgiving her.

"This is torture, Charlie, you realize that? Going to this stupid holiday party? And now I have to do it alone." Castiel had Charlie on speaker and began pacing his new apartment. It was larger than his last one and even had a twenty-four hour concierge, but mostly he had chosen it because it was closer to Nick's estate.

"Hey Cas, you can do this, buddy. I know you can. Eyes on the prize, okay?"

"Where am I putting the tracker again?" 

Charlie had already run him through this several times, but that was before she had bailed as his date.

"You ask Michael if you can see his watch, the family watch that he never takes off. The tracker will slip right into the clasp. Easy peasy, okay?" 

"Easy peasy, she says. You heard the part where he never takes it off?" He pulled at his tie and tried to straighten it, eventually taking the whole thing off in frustration.

"Yes, but he would do it for you, his cousin. Especially to see the inscription from your mother. Come on, Cas, this is the perfect way to get a trace on Michael. The guy is elusive, to say the least.

"I know, alright? I get it, but he's just... Michael," Castiel didn't have a word for it, but Michael intimidated him almost more than Nick did.

"You've been doing great. Think of all the good you've done already! We busted that large shipment of slaves just last month ‘cause you got the drop on when they were being moved, and you know they plan a big auction soon when they close down the farm facility in Illinois. It’s helping, Castiel. What you're doing is helping people." 

Castiel sighed and snatched a different blue tie out of his closet, settling it around his neck.

"I know, Charlie, it's just... I am glad to help those people, really I am, but..."

"You wanna help Dean." Charlie's voice was quiet. She was the only one he had confided in about Dean.

"He's suffering Charlie, really suffering. Every time I see him that spark is just a little duller. What happens if Nick snuffs it out before I can get him free from there?"

"I'm sorry, Cas. If there was anyway to bust him out we would, but it would raise too many alarm bells and ruin all the work you're doing. Plus..." Charlie hesitated and he could only imagine her squirming in her seat.

"Spit it out, Charlie."

"Well, I found a copy of Dean's contract on the dark web. Wasn't easy, mind you, but it has a clause in it... If he escapes or dies before his ten years are up they will grab his brother to take his place. Their contracts are tied to each other. If we bust out Dean we would have to find his brother first to keep him safe."

"That shouldn't be too hard, surely?"

"It shouldn't, but the brother’s AWOL. I tried finding him but he took off, I think the night his brother was taken. No record of Sam Winchester enrolled in any schools. I haven't done a full search yet but as far as I can tell he's a ghost in the wind." 

Castiel paused to process that. Dean had spoken so fondly of his brother.

"That explains a lot. I always thought there had to be something keeping him from fighting back. Well fuck, can you keep looking? For Sam, anyway? ‘Cause I swear, Charlie, the second this is over and the Hand has what it needs, I am grabbing Dean and getting him the hell out of there." Castiel felt the familiar rage boiling up inside him and pushed it back down.

"I'm on it, okay? As soon as I find him I’ll let you know, but Cas, this isn't gonna be short. You know that, right? It could take years to get the info we need.

"I know that, but let's just hope it doesn't take that long okay? I can't bear to think of it taking that long and what Dean... what he will go through."

"What is it about this guy that has you so hung up on him?"

"He's... I dunno, he's good. He is a good man, and strong and resilient, and I think given the chance he might even be funny. I can't put a finger on it, Charlie. There is so much more to him, I just know it." It was true, he didn't really know the real Dean, the man he could be if he wasn't tormented so. Still, the fragments of that man were still there, and it made him all the more ready to piece him back together.

"Alright, well, get your ass out the door or your gonna be late. You got this, Cas. You’re gonna do great."

"Yeah, thanks. Stay safe, Charlie."

"You too, Cas." With that, he straightened his tie and headed out the door.

It was cold out, and Castiel pulled the thick pea coat around his shoulders. The house was buzzing with lights and voices. He knew that this was the party of the year and that every big name person that mattered in the Fist would be here tonight. Castiel watched the people pouring in through the door in long, elegant evening gowns and sharply-tailored suits. Most seemed to have slaves in tow who were scantily clad for the harsh winter night. 

Cas jogged up the steps, greeted by Nick's slave Tessa at the door taking coats. He nodded at her and handed her his coat, biting back a polite greeting that wouldn’t be fitting in his current company. The house was jam packed with people. Christmas music swelled through the whole house and Cas could feel his heartbeat quicken. He slithered around the outskirts of the crowd, grabbing a glass of champagne and downing it, a sweaty palm working over the tracker in his coat pocket.

Suddenly his eyes caught on a flash of bare skin and red satin. He turned and to see Nick standing by a big, gold, decorated tree. He couldn't see around the people so he inched closer and fought back a gasp of shock.

Dean was kneeling at Nick’s side and never could Castiel have envisioned... this. He was completely naked, which was nothing new, but there was a bronze, almost gold shine over his whole body. Nick had covered poor Dean in huge red satin bows. One bow was tied around the back of his head, holding a ring gag in place, with the tails of the bow running down his back. Another line of red satin was laced together on his forearms in front of him, with another bow at his wrists. Cas moved to the side and could see a tiny red bow sitting at the top of a gold cock ring. Adding insult to injury, his thighs were bound to his ankles at a 90 degree angle, making it impossible for him to straighten his legs or stand, even if he wanted to. Castiel thought the sight might actually make him vomit.

_ Oh Dean. _ He bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood. Luckily, he was looking up to catch Nick’s wide grin as he waved him over. Slowly, trying not to look down, he headed over to him.

"Cousin! Merry Christmas!" Nick gave him a huge bear hug, sidling other people out of the way. It was bone crushing, and knocked the wind out of him.

"Happy Christmas, Nick," Castiel huffed out in reply. "This is a lovely party."

"Isn’t it though! You have to try the bacon-wrapped scallops, they are mouth watering,” Nick winked at him, throwing an arm around his shoulder and pulling Castiel next to him. Nick began introducing Castiel to the gaggle of people standing around him, and it was almost like Nick was a king, holding court. Castiel politely greeted the other guests and made the best small talk he could manage. He chanced a look down at Dean and saw his blank expression and strange, bloodshot eyes. He’d been drugged. Cas was quite certain that Dean had no idea where he was or what was going on. A small blessing, perhaps.

“Well well, Nick, seems like you are enjoying my work. You’ve done a good job finishing him,” a dark voice crooned from beside Castiel, who turned to see a tall, thin man leering down at Dean.

“Ahh, Alistair! So good to see you here. Yes, I forgot you were the one to break my little pet here.” Nick pat the top of Dean’s head and glanced at him in something akin to pride.

“Yes. He was a challenge at first but you just need to know what buttons to push and cuts to make. He is being obedient, I hope. You can always send him back for a round of reconditioning if you ever need to, Nick. First time on the house.” Alistair grinned, and for the first time Dean showed some sign of life as a small shiver ran through him.

“You’re too good to me, Al, old sport. I’ll keep it in mind, but I like to do my own training. That's half the fun,” Nick laughed and gave a little tug on the bow around Dean’s neck. “I did give him that cocktail you recommended, so he would be good and compliant for all my guests. He’s still got a tiny bit of fight in him on occasion.”

Castiel took slow, steadying breaths and tried hard not to look as disgusted as he felt. Looking around the room though, it seemed that a pleasure slave was the must-have accessory and everyone was putting theirs on display. One striking girl was in an elaborate feathered costume and a gold bit gag. Another young male was wearing a holly berry wreath around his head and another was decorated with tinsel. Castiel had never been more determined to put an end to this barbaric practice.

“As I live and breathe! Castiel Novak!” Castiel would know that voice anywhere and, turning with a smile plastered to his face, saw Michael approaching. Michael was classically handsome, with thick wavy black hair that was now streaked with grey, a sharp jaw line and lean, fit body. Castiel and Michael were often confused for brothers when they were young, unlike the large, formidable blonde frame of Nick who looked nothing like his brother.

“Michael. It’s so good too see you, Happy Christmas.” Castiel smiled at him and shook his hand.

“You as well, Castiel. It’s been too long, how are you?”

“Doing well, and yourself?”

“He’s always doing well, aren’t you, Michael?” Nick interjected with a wicked look on his face.

“Hello Nick, pleasure as always.” Michael’s face went a bit stiff as if it pained him to acknowledge his brother.

“Glad you made it, big brother. You know our little cousin here has been flourishing as a director at my shipping company the past few months. Real up-and-comer, runs in his blood.” Nick practically preened with pride and despite himself, Castiel did feel a small inkling of pride as well.

“I’m happy to see you are more ambitious than your parents, Castiel. There may be hope for you yet it seems.” Michael looked Castiel up and down like he was inspecting a show dog.

Castiel had rehearsed this part several times with Charlie and took a deep breath readying himself. “My parents were of an old idealistic mindset, I admit, but the older I became the more I realized how illogical and romanticized their way of thinking was. The Fist has brought prosperity and order to a chaotic world. I am just grateful that Nick has given me the chance to prove myself capable of being an asset to the family business.”

Michael gave Castiel another serious glare like he was trying to read his mind before humming in satisfaction. “I’m pleased to hear it, Castiel. The family could use a fresh young mind like yours.”

“Now if I could only get you two to loosen up a bit and have some fun then I would feel accomplished,” Nick laughed, slapping Castiel on the back. Castiel smiled at Nick and, shaking down his sleeve, put his hand on Nick’s shoulder so that the watch that sat there was clearly visible to Michael. Michael’s eyes caught the gold and Castiel couldn’t help but think,  _ Gotcha! _

“Castiel, is that the family watch that grandfather gave to your father?” Michael asked, leaning in to get a good look.

“Why yes, he gave it to my father as a wedding gift. Said that the man who earned his daughter’s heart should have a good watch. I believe my mother had given grandfather a watch once, she told me it was engraved on the back.” Castiel watched as both Nick and Michael eyed the watch on his wrist. For all their sticking up their noses at Castiel’s parents, they were still obsessed with anything relating to their grandfather.

Michael cleared his throat and rubbed at the watch on his wrist. “Yes I uh- I have the sister watch to yours. I got it from grandfather when he passed away.”

Castiel slipped off his father’s watch and handed it to Michael. Michael had always had a bit of a god complex with their grandfather, and his tales of the noble rising of The Fist Empire and how they were going to carry on his legacy. Michael examined the watch a moment, running a thumb over the engraving on the back with nothing short of reverence. Castiel hadn’t worn the watch, especially since his father never had. He had loved his mother but ever only tolerated her family. Without a word, Michael slipped off his own watch and reached out to give it to Castiel. This was his moment and just as Charlie had shown him, he turned the watch to read the inscription on the back. His palms felt sweaty as he slipped the tracker securely into place the slightest brush of the hand.

“It is a very fine watch. Thank you for letting me look at it, Michael,” Castiel said warmly as the two men exchanged watches back. Castiel could hear his pulse beating in his ears, washing out the rest of the conversation. He glanced down at Dean, whose eyes were fixed on Castiel’s shoes.

“Come now, Nick, when is the real fun going to start?” A jovial man came up behind Nick and slapped him on the back.

“I believe that’s my cue. It was a lovely evening, brother. Castiel, it was good to see you again, Merry Christmas.” Michael nodded to both of them and swept out of the room. Castiel had noticed that the party goers were becoming increasingly intoxicated and had started dragging off slaves toward all corners of the house. He knew he had to make his exit, and quickly.

“Come on, Nick, you’re not gonna put that pretty thing on display and not share, are you?” Castiel looked up to a leering group of men all eyeing Dean with terrifyingly hungry expressions. Dean shook all over as Nick grinned down at him.

“Well, it is Christmas after all,” Nick laughed, “Just call me Saint Nick!” He began to tug on the red ribbon leash. Dean let out a garbled whimper then and looked up in his drugged haze, turning bloodshot red eyes to Castiel. Without thinking, Castiel threw out a hand to grasp at Nick’s arm. Nick turned an interested expression to Castiel. “Wanting to join, Cuz?”

Castiel moved in close to Nick so only he could hear, “Uh, actually Nick I was wondering if you might, well if you might let me take your pet for a little one on one time? I never was much of an exhibitionist, though.”

Nick chuckled. “You want to steal all the fun from the rest of us, is that it? Ah well, you are fast becoming my favorite. For you I will make an exception. Here, take him. You can use the room at the end of the hall. All yours for the night.” Nick handed over the ribbon to Castiel who took it, hoping Nick wouldn’t notice the nervous shake.

“You’re too kind Nick. Thank you. He’s so lovely.”

“Don’t mention it. Come on boys, I think Crowley brought a fresh one for us.” Nick joined the group of men as they laughed and made their way toward another room. Castiel looked down at Dean who was still and kneeling at his feet.

“C-come on, pet,” Castiel turned and began making his way toward a back room, moving slow enough so Dean wouldn’t have to struggle too hard crawling behind him. Once in the room, Castiel closed the door and slid the lock shut, pressing his forehead against the cool wood. What the hell had he been thinking? He hadn’t, that was what Charlie would have told him. He turned slowly to look at Dean, who was kneeling on the carpet before him.

Dean moved a little closer and raised his hands up, Castiel thought offering them for him to untie but they moved to Castiel’s fly. “Oh no, Dean, you don’t... I mean here, just hold your hands still for me.” Cas untied the elaborate ribbon from Dean’s arms, then moved around him to untie the ring gag from the back of his neck.

Dean stayed frozen for this procedure and Castiel could feel the heat radiating off the man’s skin from the heavy cocktail he was under. He peered about the room and saw it was a modest guest room with a queen-sized bed and, thankfully, a small ensuite bathroom.

“Dean, you can untie the other restraints now, alright?” 

Dean didn’t move at first, but eventually he mechanically untied his legs and let out a small moan when he unclipped the cock ring. Castiel kept his eyes averted as best he could.

_ Smooth move, Castiel. Now what? _

“What would like me to do, Master?” Dean asked in a bit of slur.

Castiel blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I want you to shower.”

Dean looked up at him with a perplexed look.

“Come on.” Castiel moved to the bathroom and was relieved to hear movement behind him. He turned on the shower and tested it with his hand till it was the right temperature. “Alright, are you okay to stand, Dean?” Dean just nodded and braced an arm on the wall but got up to his feet. “There now, I want you to shower, okay? There are towels on the rack.” Dean flinched a little at the last word but Castiel pressed on. “I’ll be waiting out here when you are done.”

With that he stepped out of the bathroom and closed the door, wondering what on earth his next step would be.

********************

Dean’s mind felt foggy at best, but he was pretty sure even sober he wouldn’t have been able to figure out what Castiel was angling at. He had a sudden thought that maybe he was a germophobe and wanted him clean before he touched him? Still his muscles ached and he moved into the warm water with a sigh.

His movements were slow and uncoordinated, whatever drugs his master had put in him were still coursing through his veins. His hard on was practically painful. He bit his lip as he ran the bar of soap over his sore body. He thought of the blue eyed man on the other side of the door. He couldn’t deny he was attracted to the man, who wouldn’t be with a jaw like his and eyes that blue. But he didn’t want to be with Castiel like this, not as a pet, not being used like the fuck toy he was. He closed his eyes and imagined he was far from here.

He imagined that he and Cas had been on a date, Dean had made Cas laugh with one of his stupid jokes, and they had snuck small glances and brushes of fingertips over bread baskets. He imagined Castiel had brought him home and fed him whiskey and pie and played some old Stones record while they sloppily danced in the low living room light. He imagined Castiel taking him to the bedroom and undressing him slowly and reverently. He imagined Castiel’s lips on his jaw, his neck and moving down to his collar bone. Just the thought of those lips brushing against his skin and he came hard against the shower wall, not even realizing he had been stroking himself.

Tension eased out of him then, and he suddenly wanted to go to sleep. Only, the man of his day dreams wasn’t real, he didn’t exist. Castiel was his Master tonight and could do with him as he pleased. The crippling realization hit him like a freight train and he curled in on himself into a tight ball on the shower floor, sobbing uncontrollably. He had to get a grip on himself. If he couldn’t please Castiel tonight he would get thrown to those wolves. He had a fleeting thought that maybe that would be for the best. He would rather be torn apart by those faceless men then have those blue eyes shatter his fantasy into pieces.

“Dean? Are you alright in there?” Castiel knocked and hesitantly opened the door. Dean gasped in a breath and tried his best to fight back the onslaught of tears. “Oh Dean.” Castiel swept into the room and Dean couldn’t make his voice appear. Castiel shut off the water and draped a towel around Dean’s shoulders pulling him up to standing on shaky feet.

“Dean, you are safe for tonight, okay? You are safe with me, I promise.” Castiel almost sounded pleading as he tucked the towel tight around Dean’s shoulders.

“Please, Master, I’m sorry, I’ll-I’ll do better, please Master, please...” A slew of begging erupted from Dean and he was shaking hard again now.

“Hush now, alright? Come on, you need to sleep it off. Those drugs are wreaking havoc on your system.” Castiel guided him into the bedroom with firm hands on his shoulders. Then, taking a big plush blanket from the end of the bed, Castiel removed Dean’s towel only to wrap him up tight in the blanket, effectively covering everything but Dean’s head. He guided Dean to the bed and all Dean could think was that it would be very hard for Castiel to fuck him all wrapped up like he was.

“What’s going on?” Dean asked in confusion as Castiel pulled back the comforter and tucked Dean in on the far side of the bed. Dean rolled on his side to face Castiel, studying his face a moment before realizing what a terrible rule he was breaking and averting his eyes.

“What’s going on is you are going to sleep, Dean, and I will be right over in that chair, okay?”

“You aren’t going to fuck me?” Dean asked because he had to be sure

“No, Dean, I am not, but it would mean a lot to me if you didn’t let anyone else know that. Do you understand?” Dean thought about that for a moment. He couldn’t begin to fathom what Castiel was up to but he nodded.

“Okay, Cas.” He let his head drop to the pillow, overwhelmed with exhaustion. Castiel moved to get off the bed and Dean suddenly felt a rise of panic. “Please… don’t go, will you, will you stay here with me?”

“Just sleep, you understand?” Castiel eyed him a second before shucking off his clothes till he was down to a tee shirt and his boxers and slid in next to Dean. Dean was still all wrapped up in the blanket underneath the comforter and sheets but felt his heart rate slow a bit with Castiel’s proximity.

“Get some rest, okay Dean? I am right here.” Castiel let out a weary sigh. Dean’s mind was getting even more foggy and he was having trouble focusing on anything. He looked up then into Castiel’s eyes and light was framing his lovely face. Dean reached up a hand from under the blanket and rested it on his cheek.

“Are you real?” he asked, barely above a whisper.

“Yes, Dean, I’m real,” came the rough, warm voice. Dean could get used to that voice. He thought the light looked almost like a halo.

“Are you an angel?” he asked, tracing a finger over the man’s cheek and thought it would be strange for an angel to have stubble.

“I’m no angel, Dean, and you should sleep,” the angel encouraged him.

Dean gave a small contented hum now and curled up against the side of the angel. He drew in a deep breath smelling the scent of vanilla and violet and something else. It was an intoxicating smell and he again wondered if an angel would smell like anything.

“My angel,” Dean murmured closing his eyes and feeling the rise and fall of the chest next to him.

“Good night, Dean,” the soft rumble came again and Dean let himself go.

***********************************

Castiel watched as Dean fell into a deep, drug-induced sleep as he slowly carded his fingers through the man’s hair in a soothing fashion. He knew he would have to leave in the morning and make some lewd jokes with Nick about his night with Nick’s pet. He would have to walk away from this beautiful, sad soul and he thought it might actually break him. Dean would go back to being used and pulled apart come morning. But it wasn’t morning yet, and for now Dean was safe in Castiel’s arms, and nothing on heaven or earth was going to touch the man. Castiel planted a light, chaste kiss on his forehead and prayed that morning never came.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello All,  
> Here is Chapter 13, you will get an update on Sam and some POV from Cas and Dean in this chapter. I also plan to post 14 shortly after this one so hold tight!  
> Big Trigger Warning this Chapter

Sam leaned against the cold brick of the building and shifted from foot to foot, trying to dispel the ache in his legs from another growth spurt. There were only another thirty minutes till curfew and he was getting antsy. He checked his phone again but there were no new texts yet, just a message he sent to Bobby telling him he would be staying at his friend Justin's house. Finally he heard footsteps approaching and he stood up straight as a small, lithe figure of a brunette marched up to him.

"Alright, come on. Hurry up and be quiet," she hissed at him before marching past him down the dark alley toward a heavy metal door beside a dumpster. He hustled to catch up to her fast pace and stood anxiously behind her as she knocked lightly on the door.

"Who is it?" a gruff voice called from beyond the door.

"Ruby," the woman replied with an annoyed twinge to her voice.

"Password?"

"French fries. Just hurry up and let us in! It’s almost curfew," she huffed out, arms crossed. After a moment the door clicked and swung open for them and they ducked inside.

"Who is this?" A tall, older black man with a rifle resting on his shoulder looked Sam up and down and gestured with his free hand.

"Rufus, this is Sam. Sam, this is Rufus." Ruby gestured between them and Sam stretched out a hand. Rufus just glared at him a moment and Sam let his hand drop. "It's longlegs83," Ruby added and a slow smile broke across the stern man's face.

"Ahhh, so you're the hacker that got into the shipping companies’ records? Good work, but uh, how old are you kid?"

Sam licked his lips nervously and decided to go with honesty. "I'll, uh, be seventeen in May."

"Uh huh." Rufus gave him another once over and Sam didn't think he liked what he saw. "He's a bit young, ain't he, Ruby?"

"Can't afford to be picky, the Fist isn't. I'm eighteen myself, or have you forgotten that? Come on, Sam, I'll introduce you around." She grabbed Sam's coat sleeve and dragged him down a narrow hallway that opened up to what looked like a makeshift command center. There were wires and extension cords everywhere, and old computer monitors lined up on folding tables. This was what Sam had been waiting for - a chance to do some good, a chance to find Dean. He needed the rebellion’s help to find his brother, so he was making it his mission to make the rebellion need him.

"Hey everybody, I want you to meet someone. This is Sam, but I think you guys know him as longlegs83," Ruby introduced him and the three people typing on computers looked up at him, making him feel a bit on the spot.

"I can see where the long legs reference came from. Tell me, Sammy, are you proportionate in all areas?" A short woman with brown curly hair leered at him.

"Meg, cut the crap!" Ruby hissed at the woman and Sam fought down the blush threatening to creep up his cheeks. "That's Meg. You can ignore her most of the time. She's our inside informant working at one of the farms nearby. Over here we have Frank who is one of our most talented hackers. He specializes in creating aliases and keeping us off the Fist's radar."

Frank was a twitchy-looking grey-haired man who scowled at Sam before waving him away and going back to typing and mumbling to himself.

"He is paranoid as fuck, so I would just give him space. He is a shoot first ask questions later kinda guy," Ruby whispered to him.

"Nice to meet you," Sam said with a quick wave as Ruby pulled him toward the other person in the room. A short kid bounced up out of his chair with a warm, genuine smile and stretched out his hand to Sam, who gratefully took it.

"Hi, I'm Kevin. Good to have some fresh blood in here." Kevin shook his hand hard before letting it go and tucking his hands back in his pockets.

"Hi Kevin. It's nice to meet you."

"Kevin here is our code breaker. A lot of what we managed to pull from the dark web on the Fist is hidden in code, but Kevin hasn't come across a code he couldn't break yet," Ruby said with pride, pulling Kevin in for a side hug and messing up his hair.

"I wouldn't go that far. I still can't seem to decipher that file from Castiel yet," Kevin's head dropped a little.

"You'll get there. Maybe Sam can try and help you out with it. Why don't you show him the ropes? I have to touch base with the boss." Ruby patted Sam's arm, and pulled him in to whisper in his ear, "Don't forget our agreement."

He nodded at her and she turned on her heels and marched off. He took a chair next to Kevin, feeling grateful not to be left with Meg or Frank.

"So, Sam, pretty big risk joining the resistance, huh?"

"You could say that, but it’s worth the risk isn't it?"

"Oh yeah, I mean, you just look young is all."

"You don't look much older than me," Sam raised a skeptical eyebrow at him.

"I'm seventeen, but I was in advanced placement so I finished high school early."

"I just have one more test to take and I can get my GED, but I haven't been to school in over a year, just studying from home." He had kept that much of his bargain with Bobby and had every intention of getting his GED and helping pull his weight at the salvage yard.

"You got a family?"

"I have an uncle who I live with, Bobby. How about you?" Sam felt a tightness in his chest thinking about how he was lying to Bobby, but he knew he wouldn't approve of him taking this kind of risk. He swallowed down the guilt and shelved it for another day.

"I just had my mom, but she was taken by the Fist a year ago so I joined up as soon as I could. Nothing left to lose, right?" Kevin gave a nervous laugh. "We can sure use all the help we can get. We got raided a few months ago, lost a few people and had to move our base of operations."

"I'm here to help. Just give me a computer and tell me what you need." Sam smiled at the kid. He was so ready to get to work and feel useful. The past year without his brother had been the worst of his life and the only thing keeping him from being consumed by guilt and grief was knowing he was helping to take down the bastards who took his brother. Kevin got Sam set up at a computer next to his and guided him to the site they needed locations from. Sam quickly got to work.

Ruby stopped by to check in, bringing burnt coffee for them. Sam thanked her, and she leaned over his shoulder, planting a soft kiss behind his ear. A shiver ran down his back, and the breath of her perfume made his head swim.

She straightened up and trailed off to another room. Ruby had given Sam two conditions for joining the Hand: firstly, he had to help them hack into confidential Fist sites - something he was more than happy to do. The second was he couldn't breath a word about his brother to anyone, not even other members of the Hand. If he followed those rules she would help him find and free Dean. The second request made no sense to Sam. Why he would need to keep that a secret from the other members of the Hand? But he was in no position to bargain, and there wasn't anything he wouldn't do to get Dean back. Sam typed as fast he could, feeling with each key stroke he was closer to finding his brother.

_Don't give up Dean, I'll find you..._ For the first time in a long time Sam thought he stood a fighting chance.

**********************************************************

Castiel paced his kitchen, listening to his coffee percolate. His coffee addiction had only seemed to be magnified over the past year since he took on the undercover job. He looked at himself briefly in the hall mirror and cringed, thinking he looked years older than he had even a few months ago. Working with the Perdition Corporation was taking its toll on him physically, as well as emotionally. His work cell seemed to ring off the hook non-stop, and he glared at it now, sitting on his kitchen counter like it might jump up and bite him. As if his thoughts summoned it to life, the cell started vibrating on the counter.

_Damn it._

He cursed under his breath before checking the caller ID and seeing Nick's name pop up. He collected himself before answering.

"Hello, Nick. How are you?"

"Good, good. I hope I didn't wake you, I know its early."

"Not at all, just brewing my morning coffee."

"Don't you have a house slave for that?"

Castiel slapped a palm to his forehead for his slip up.

"She is cooking breakfast right now and I am particular about my coffee in the morning. What can I do for you?"

"Well, I have a favor to ask, and I know that it might be a pain for you, but I am going out of town on business next week, May second through June fifth. I want to bring Gordon with me but it will leave no one to watch my house. If it’s not too much trouble, could you stay at the house and watch over the slaves and property for me?"

Castiel was speechless for a moment. This was one hell of a break. Not only could he search the house for intelligence on the Fist but he could spend time with Dean, keep him safe for a whole month.

"I think I can make that work. I have a friend who has been wanting to get some things done at their place so I can send my slave to stay with her while I watch over your estate."

"Win win for everyone! Alright, I will let you enjoy your coffee. I'm going to go let off some steam before my morning meeting. Laters Cas." Nick hung up before he could say goodbye and Castiel had a huge grin plastered to his face as he poured his coffee and took a scalding sip.

He was headed for his computer to inform Charlie of the new development when there was a knock at his door. He hadn't been expecting anyone but smiled when he opened the door to see Charlie standing there.

"Charlie!" he exclaimed pulling her into a hug and trying not spill his coffee.

"You're in a good mood. What happened to you?" She furrowed her all-knowing brow at him before spotting his coffee. "Oooo coffee! Can I have some?"

"Yes, I am in a good mood and yes, I will get you coffee." He grabbed her a cup and added a sinful amount of cream and sugar, just how she liked it. She had already seated herself at his laptop. She typed quickly, pulling up a video chat window.

"Gee, thanks!" she exclaimed, snatching the coffee from his hand.

"You do know that when we are in person like this we can just talk, right? We don't need to video chat," he teased her and got a satisfactory eye roll from her.

"Duh, dummy, I am logging into a video chat with Naomi. She wants to talk to you and she wanted to be sure the line was secure so here I am," she said, twirling her hand with a flourish.

"Naomi?!" Cas exclaimed. He had emailed with her a few times. She was the head of the Hand rebellion and almost no-one actually talked to her face to face, even on a video chat.

"The one and only. You got three minutes."

_Shit!_

Cas ran into his bedroom and threw on a clean button up and changed out his sweats into a clean pair of khakis. He went back out to find Charlie grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"A little warning next time would be nice, and I haven't even had a chance to tell you about what Nick said this morning," Castiel tugged at his shirt and ran a hand through his messy hair.

"Well, now you can tell both of us. Alright, get over here and have a seat." Charlie got up and Castiel sat in front of the computer, just as a face came on the screen.

"Hello, Castiel." Her voice was warm like honey. She had auburn hair artfully pulled back in a twisted bun and thin-rimmed glasses perched on her nose.

"Good morning, Naomi," he replied, trying to sound cool and collected.

"Thank you for meeting with me. I wanted to personally thank you for all your hard work this past year. I know it’s been very difficult for you."

"It's nothing really, as long as it’s helping."

"Oh it is, Castiel, believe me. In fact, your intelligence from last month helped us pinpoint that transfer of slaves and we had a successful interception of nearly forty people. You can feel good about that, Castiel."

"That's great news." Castiel flushed with pride. He didn't always find out how his intel was helping, so it was good to know that a few more people were free because of him.

"Do you have any more updates for us? There have been rumblings that the Perditions have some big plans in the mix and we hope to stay one step ahead of them."

"Well, I don't know about any out of the ordinary plans, except that Nick is planning to go on a trip for the next month and asked that I stay at his place to house sit." He could feel Charlie's hand tighten on his shoulder but ignored her for the moment.

"That's wonderful, Castiel. Hopefully you can gather more information on what they are planning. I wish we could talk longer but I have to go, we cannot keep the line open too long. May the Hand guide you."

"And you," Castiel replied before the screen went black.

"Why didn't you tell me? Babysitting the mansion for a month!" Charlie smacked his shoulder a few times and he put his hands up in defense.

"Hey, easy does it! I told you I had news, but you didn't wanna hear it."

"Is he taking Dean with him or leaving him at the house?"

Cas hesitated a moment, feeling suddenly crestfallen. "I- I dunno, I assumed he was leaving him but I didn't ask."

"Hey, don't get like that. I bet he won't bother taking him, the hassle of it. I'm sure he won't let himself be lacking for company."

Castiel nodded and hoped fervently that she was right.

*********************************

Dean leaned his head against the wall, eyes closed, and strained to hear the voices through the open doorway nearby.

"Why do I always have to make dinner? Can't you do it, Anna?"

"I would, but your cooking is far better than mine and I don't feel like getting beaten for not adding enough salt to his stew."

"Jo, how about I do the dishes for you so you can concentrate on dinner? I already have a head start on laundry anyway."

"You're a real pushover, Tessa, you know that?” Jo muttered.

“Don’t get like that, Jo. I know my place, you should learn yours.”

“Maybe I'm tired of my place,” Jo spat back.

“Guys, come on, let’s not get at each other’s throats.” Anna’s voice came through strong and firm.

“Sorry, I’m just… I’m just tired of it.”

“It’s okay, come on, let’s get this done and maybe if we are quick we can sit outside for a little.”

Dean liked listening to the girls talk. Their whispers helped soothe him and help him not feel so alone. It was rare that his master left him alone and not bound in some way, so he enjoyed the minor freedom of being forgotten. He stretched his jaw which was still aching from the face fucking he had received that morning after his master was off the phone.

The voices that travelled to his ear through the door began to sound like mumbling as he drifted between wakefulness and sleep. He saw blue eyes, felt warm strong arms wrap around him and smelled vanilla and violet as he daydreamed about that night with Castiel. He had felt truly safe and he clung to that memory like a life preserver. It had been months since he had been able to touch Castiel, but he could still imagine the soft tickle of his long fingers on Dean’s cheek.

“Dean?”

He looked up into the startled eyes of Jo, who stood over him. Dean couldn’t help but flinch and cringe away, shielding himself with his arm. Jo bent down next to him, looking to see if anyone was around before resting a hand on his raised arm.

“Easy does it, Dean, I won’t hurt you… Come with me, you must be hungry.” Jo slid her tiny hand into his and though Dean knew it was breaking the rules, he followed her to the kitchen anyway.

“Jo, you're not supposed to talk to him,” Anna said with a sympathetic tone once she caught sight of Dean.

“Oh, have a heart, Anna. Sneaking him one piece of bread won’t hurt anyone,” Jo frowned.

“Don’t wanna get you in trouble,” Dean forced the words out in a hoarse broken voice. He hadn’t used his voice for more than begging or screaming in so long, talking felt foreign. He felt another hand on his shoulder and turned to see Tessa next to him.

“It’s okay, Dean, it’s our choice. Jo, why don’t you grab some of the white bread and peanut butter, just be quick about it.” Jo flashed Tessa a small, knowing smile.

“Know your place, huh?” Jo teased and Tessa shrugged.

“Well, if we are going to bend the rules can we a least do it quickly?” Anna rushed over to the cabinet, pulling out the peanut butter and Jo put together a makeshift half-sandwich, handing it to Dean. His mouth watered at the sight, but he knew his master would never allow him to eat without permission, much less Master food.

“Go on, Dean. Hurry up.” Jo gave him a stern look. He stuffed the sandwich in his mouth. The creamy peanut butter stuck to the roof of his mouth and was a bit dry without any jam, but it was the most delicious thing he had ever eaten. He gave a small moan around the last bite and he turned to see Anna handing him a glass of water which he gratefully took.

“What's going on in here?!” His Master’s voice filled the small room and Dean dropped the glass he had been holding. He watched it shatter on the kitchen floor.

“Kneel, all of you,” he growled.

Dean fell to his knees, wincing as the broken glass dug into his skin. The girls quickly did the same, bowing their heads.

“Tessa, why is my pet in the kitchen? And why is he drinking out of a glass and not a bowl like the bitch he is?”

His words turned Dean’s veins to ice and he darted a glance at Tessa’s stoic features.

“Master, I invited him in here and offered him a cup of water. It was foolish. I am so sorry, Master.” Her voice was light and gentle and placating. Nick strode over to her and caressed the side of her face in an almost loving way before winding back his hand delivering a blow that knocked her back into the cabinets with a loud crack.

“How dare you break my rules, you ungrateful wench? All of you!” He raised his boot and delivered a swift kick to Anna’s stomach, making her double over with groan before rounding on Jo and pulling her up by the hair. He raised his fist ready to strike, and the words began tumbling out of Dean’s mouth.

“Please master, please, please, please, it’s not their fault, my fault all my fault master, please don’t hurt them… ” Dean begged like his life depended on it, like their lives depended on it. All he could really hope for was to divert the attention off the girls.

“You’re right, pet, you were the most disobedient little bitch, weren’t you?” his Master dropped Jo and grabbed hold of Dean’s collar, dragging him from the kitchen, through the dining room and into the front hall, dropping Dean on the cold tile. Dean gasped for breath and watched the powerful, predatory legs circle him like a lion going in for the kill.

“Worthless. Disobedient. Cock slut. Whore,” his Master punctuated each word with a kick to his torso, his face, his back, till all Dean could hear was the litany of vicious words as his mind swam in the shock from the pain. He did his best to pull in on himself, his body instinctively protecting his vital organs, for what good it might do. Eventually the words stopped and the kicks ceased as he listened to his master panting for air. The room felt like it was spinning and Dean scrunched his eyes shut to try and get it to stay still.

Rough hands were on him though, dragging him up and throwing him over some hard surface. He barely registered his legs being kicked apart before he felt himself being penetrated, fast and dry. His master may not prep him much but tended to at least use lubrication, normally. Today, Dean knew what kind of lubrication he would be using. The pain was almost overshadowed by the burning pain in his body from the beating.

“You’re my pretty little hole to fuck, you hear me? You’re are not a man anymore, you do not get to eat food for men, you do not get to drink like a man, cause you are my little bitch. Say it, pet!”

“I’m your little bitch,” Dean managed to huff out between jarring thrusts. He could tell he was going into shock, his whole body felt like it was shutting down. Before Dean realized it, his master had finished and tossed him back on the unforgiving tile. “Clean him up, and don’t let me catch you spoiling my pet again.”

Dean listened to the receding clump of footsteps and blinked a few times, looking up into three sets of pitying eyes before the word went blissfully dark.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, this is an easier chapter guys, hope you enjoy. I am also working on two fics instead of three so hopefully I can keep up with the chapter a week with this fic.

Castiel nervously fidgeted as he waited on the stone steps of Nick's estate, his suitcase at his side. He had spent the previous evening up late with Charlie, trying to come up with a good option for getting Dean out of Nick's clutches. Castiel had been hoarding his money over the past year. Not hard since Nick was paying him nearly six times his previous job. He figured if he waited for the right time, he could offer to buy Dean from Nick. He would have to wait till Nick was tired of him though, since he would be unlikely to agree to it before then. He mused over planting the seed with Nick that he would be interested in that when the door opened to a surly scowl, Gordon looking out at him.

"Mr. Novak, come in. We've been waiting for you." That sounded ominous, but Castiel stepped inside with his bag to find Nick standing at the bottom of the staircase with a lineup of bags next to him. The three girls were also all lined up and kneeling on the cold tile floor with heads bowed.

Castiel noticed a new decorative table in the foyer, but didn't comment.

Nick didn't look up as he typed furiously into his phone. "Cuz, glad you're here. Gordon will walk you through everything you need to know while staying here. I'd stay to talk but I need to catch my flight. You have my cell - call if you need anything." Nick flashed him a quick smile, patted Castiel on the shoulder and stomped out the door before Castiel could mutter so much as a hello or a goodbye.

"Mr. Perdition has had the guest room upstairs set up for you. It is a mirror image of Nick’s room - just go to the top of the stairs and it's at the end on the left. As you know, Mr. Perdition has the three house slaves," Gordon gestured with his hands to the girls who hadn't moved from their positions. "They know how to take care of the household and should be able to meet any of your needs. Every Monday, grounds keeping comes. There are always two security guards posted at the front gate. You should not need to interact with them, just do not be startled by their perimeter check every hour." Castiel nodded as Gordon ran through his instructions. "You may have full use of Mr. Perdition's office. He would prefer you to work from here while he is gone - he is a bit paranoid about leaving his estate alone. Also, no house guests while he is gone, and he says you have full use of his pleasure slave however you see fit for entertainment. Do you have any questions, Mr. Novak?" Gordon lifted his chin, as if daring Castiel to have a question.

"No, I think that covers most everything. If I have a concern I'll call you." Castiel wanted nothing more than for this man to leave.  He was making his skin crawl.

"Have a pleasant stay, Mr. Novak." Gordon smiled and it felt more like a threat than a welcome. Gordon snatched up a few bags and snapped his fingers. Tessa leapt up to grab the remaining bags and headed out the door. Once Gordon and Nick drove off, Castiel turned to see all three women still kneeling, staring at the floor, and still no sign of Dean.

"Um, you may all go back to doing whatever it is you would normally do." Castiel hoped he didn't sound nearly as awkward as he felt.

"Do you need help with your bag, master?" Anna questioned with a quick glance.

"Oh no, I can manage. And please, no need to use Master, you can just say Sir." Castiel nodded at them and grabbed his bag, hoisting it up the spiral staircase. Once he found the room and settled down he went in search of Dean. He was about to head down the stairs again when he heard a shuffling sound from the opposite end of the hall. Following the sound, he pushed open a door and peered inside. There was Dean, sitting on the floor at the foot of a large four-poster bed. He was gagged, and both wrists were stretched out and cuffed to a post. He was pulling and twisting his wrists, seemingly attempting to get out of his binds.

"Let me help," Castiel remarked, entering the room and Dean startled like a skittish horse, eyes going wide in a momentary terror. The fear receded when he noticed who it was, and Castiel happily noted the tension that left the strong shoulders. He moved to undo the leather cuffs and Dean averted his eyes to the floor. Castiel knew it was his training, but it still frustrated him not getting to see the lovely green there. Once Dean’s hands were undone, Castiel stood back and watched him rubbing at his wrists. He seemed to be waiting for something.

"You can get up, and take out that gag, Dean, Nick has gone for now." Dean nodded and unbuckled the ball gag, spitting it out and placing it on the floor before standing on shaky legs. Castiel took him in. There was a mottle of purple, green, and yellow bruises all along his rib cage, and what looked to be a healing black eye as well. Castiel immediately moved into Dean's space but when the man flinched, he hesitated.

"I just want to look at your ribs. Do you mind if I feel your sides? I promise to be gentle."

Dean bit his lip, considering, but just nodded. Castiel ghosted his fingers over the man's protruding ribs and felt along each one, making sure none were broken. Once he was satisfied that it was just severe bruising, he stepped back and gave Dean a hopefully warm smile.

"Are you hungry? I think it’s close to lunch. Why don't you come with me?"

Dean followed silently after him and Castiel kept a close eye on the man, not sure if he might topple over at any moment. He thought about all the terrible things he would do to Nick if ever given the opportunity. He was starting to think his cousin was more than a sadist. He might actually be deranged to want to inflict this level of pain on another person.

They reached the living room and there was a definite sway to Dean now. Grasping his shoulders firmly, he directed him over to a couch and pushed him gently to sit down. Dean seemed incredibly out of it but not so much that he forgot his training, as he slowly started to slide to the floor.

"No, no Dean, please sit on the couch for me, alright?"

Dean looked up at him now, though not meeting his eyes, and shook his head in confusion.

"I want you to sit on the couch. Nick is not here, no one is going to get mad and nothing bad is going to happen, okay Dean? Do you believe me?" Castiel waited as Dean seemed to process these words, but all he did in reply is shrug a shoulder. He continued to sit on the couch though, so Castiel took it as a win. "Thank you, Dean. Now wait here and I will get us some food."

He went to the kitchen where Jo had made a few peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for herself and the girls. He requested four more and she happily obliged, confused when he refused a more complex lunch. He brought the sandwiches and glasses of water out to where Dean was sitting and nervously set them down.

"I probably should have asked if you like PB and J. I mean, most people do and it’s one of my favorites." Castiel tried for a smile again and Dean nodded but stayed silent. "Dean, are you alright? I mean, stupid question, but you haven't said anything."

Dean licked his pale lips and tapped a hand to his throat, waving a finger, repeating the gesture one more time. Fear roiled in Castiel's gut as he darted a glance at Dean's throat, hoping to God he wouldn't see the telltale scars from a muted slave. To his immediate relief, Dean's throat was bare.

"Silencing spray?" Castiel asked and Dean nodded. "How many days ago?" Dean held up three fingers. "Alright. Well that should wear off in a couple days. Go on, have a sandwich and some water."

It took some more coaxing but Dean began to eat, and Castiel filled the stark silence with mindless drivel about how much he enjoyed PB and J and how he especially liked a peanut butter sandwich with chunky peanut butter and a drizzle of honey. That pulled a small smile out of Dean who looked up and gave him an _are you serious_ look. After eating, Dean seemed to drift off, obviously exhausted from lack of food and whatever Nick had been putting him through. He fell asleep curled up on the couch like a cat, and Castiel pulled down a blanket from the back of his chair and draped it over the man's sleeping form.

He spent the afternoon working on his laptop in the living room, stealing occasional glances at the sleeping man on the couch. He then began to wonder where Dean slept in the house, and where the other slaves did, for that matter.

"Sir, do you know what you would like for dinner?" Tessa asked in a soft voice. Apparently she was reluctant to wake the sleeping Dean either.

"Do you happen to know what Dean's favorite meal is?"

She frowned a moment in thought. "He isn't really allowed to talk to us and Master doesn't let him have real food... but he always looks longingly at the bacon burgers that Jo makes."

"Burgers it is then, thank you, Tessa." She nodded and left the room, and he looked back to see green eyes studying him like they were trying to puzzle something out.

"Did you sleep well, Dean?" Dean slowly sat up and let out a yawn, nodding at him. There were a hundred questions Castiel wanted to ask Dean, but with him essentially silenced they would just have to wait. He went back to typing on his laptop and replying to a few emails, and he jumped a little when he felt a pressure on the top of his foot. Looking down, Dean was kneeling at his feet, a hand lightly resting on top of his foot.

"Is everything okay? Do you need something?" Dean shook his head. "Dinner won't be for a little bit but please get comfortable however you want, Dean." He watched as Dean processed that, and slowly he turned his back to Castiel and sat with his knees pulled up and pressed along the side of Castiel’s leg, cheek resting on Castiel's knee. Castiel only hesitated a moment before carding his fingers through Dean's hair, and was rewarded with Dean nuzzling his knee and relaxing back against the chair even more. He went back to work, feeling a bit awkward like he had a puppy curled up at his feet, but whatever made Dean relax like that was fine by him.

Dinner went less smoothly as Castiel tried to get Dean to eat his burger sitting at the table. Dean began shaking so badly sitting in the chair, that Castiel permitted him to eat on the floor for now, hoping to work on that later. Last thing he wanted to do was stress Dean out even more. Dean made a few practically sinful faces as he ate his burger and Castiel wondered what kind of moans a burger might elicit from the man. Something to test later when Dean had his voice back.

They spent the evening in the living room watching TV, once Anna showed him how to work the controls. He studied Dean's face for any kind of recognition that he liked a particular program. Dean resumed his spot on the floor at Castiel's feet and again, he didn't protest. He mulled over his situation for the hundredth time but didn't come to any conclusions. He did the math and thought he could raise the purchase price that Nick spent on Dean in the next few months. It would leave his savings utterly depleted, but there really wasn't anything he wouldn't pay to get Dean out of the house. He wished he could place why he cared so much for this mystery of a man. He looked at Dean and saw a strong and beautiful soul, something worth saving.

"I am heading up to bed," Castiel announced once the hour was getting late. Castiel moved to head upstairs and Dean seemed to hesitate, staying seated on the ground. Honestly, Castiel wasn't sure what he was supposed to do. Should he dismiss Dean or would he just go to his room on his own? Did he have a room? Castiel decided to try and leave the decision up to Dean, so he headed up the stairs, where he changed into a tee shirt and boxers and slipped in under the covers. He flicked on a small reading light and had punched out a quick email to Charlie on his phone when he heard a low coughing sound by the door. Looking up, he saw Dean standing in the door frame, pressed up against the side, half-hiding in the hall.

"What is it, Dean?" he asked kindly but Dean just shifted from foot to foot. Castiel sighed, trying to figure him out. "Where do you normally sleep, Dean?" Dean licked his lips and pointed at the floor at the foot of the bed. "You normally sleep on the floor at the foot of Nick's bed?" Dean nodded fervently. "Well, Nick is not here, so for the next month you can sleep wherever you want to." Dean frowned at him a moment and continued gnawing on his lower lip. Castiel wondered if that habit was new, or something he had always done. He still doesn't move from the doorway but stares doggedly at the floor. Castiel couldn't take it, he could see the anxiety that making a decision was having on him. "Where would you like to sleep, Dean?"

Dean jutted out his lovely chin and gestured toward Castiel's bed. He considered this for a second. Thoughts of the Christmas party ran through his head, and of holding and comforting Dean while he slept. They had done it before, but could he trust that this was what Dean wanted with his current mental state? He looked at Dean and finally decided to give in.

"You can sleep in the bed with me, but I have two conditions." He swung out of the bed and padded over to his bag. He pulled out a tee shirt and pair of boxers, handing them to a bewildered Dean. "You need to wear these, and there will be absolutely no sex. Do you understand, Dean? I will not waver on this." He hated to sound so firm with Dean, but he really needed to know that Dean got it. Dean nodded his consent and Castiel climbed back into the bed.

Dean slid on the old, worn AC/DC tee shirt and pulled up the boxers. Both were a bit large on his thin frame and he looked at the fabric, pulling at it. Castiel wondered when the last time he wore clothing was.

Dean twisted his head a moment to read the print on the tee shirt and his face broke into a slow smile. Castiel bit back his own answering grin as Dean slunk to the opposite side of the bed and slid in next to him. The man curled up on his side, facing Castiel, legs pulled up tight. He continued chewing absentmindedly on his lip. Castiel reached out his thumb and pulled the lower lip free from its current assault. Dean's eyes flashed up a moment and he gave Cas a sheepish shrug that only made Castiel's grin that much harder to fight back.

"Get some rest, Dean." There was so much more he wanted to say, but now was not the time, and for once, time is something Castiel had. He left the bedside light on, thinking Dean may still have an issue with the dark, and settled down to sleep as well.

********************

The first few days with Castiel were strange to say the least. Dean struggled to adapt to the new normal, though he really was trying. Castiel was the biggest riddle Dean had ever encountered. He was family to his Master, and the way he talked with Nick you would assume he held the same feelings about slaves. But when they were alone he was… different. He was compassionate and kind and sympathetic and the first person that had seen and treated Dean like a person in over a year.

Still he had trouble doing what Castiel wanted sometimes, like sitting on the furniture. It made him uneasy and he couldn’t stop the panic attacks, waiting for the a blow that never came. Eventually Cas stopped asking him to sit at the table or on the couch, but would put a pillow down for him and that made him feel a bit better.

The clothes threw him off as well. Castiel had him in soft sleep pants and a tee shirt, even when they weren’t sleeping, and he was getting far too comfortable with the soft fabric on his skin. It made him feel like a person, and he wasn’t a person, not anymore. Still it seemed to make Castiel happy so he wore them, knowing it was only temporary.

What Dean was enjoying most though were the nights with Castiel, sleeping in a real bed and not the floor or in the hole. He was beginning to realize that just being next to Castiel brought him immeasurable peace. It almost reminded him of lazy summer days sitting by the lake with Sam when everything just felt right with the world.

His voice came back after a few days but he wasn’t really sure what to do with it. It was early afternoon and Castiel had gone to sit out in the sun with his laptop. Dean had followed him since he pretty much followed him everywhere he went. He stared out at the soft green grass, longingly.

“Do you want to lie in the grass?” Castiel asked, smiling at him. Dean eyed the grass suspiciously.

“Maybe,” Dean replied quietly. Castiel’s eyes went wide at the first sign of Dean’s voice but he didn’t comment on it.

“Well, go give it a try.” Castiel gestured toward the grass and Dean thought on it, but finally made a move, heading for the lush green lawn. It felt spongy and damp beneath his toes. It was fairly warm for that time of year and Dean lay down flat on his back, star-fished out beneath the sun. Dean loved the sun, and even though the grass was a little damp it still warmed his skin. He heard a rustling and only flinched a little as Castiel lowered himself next to Dean. They stared up at the clouds and Dean focused on the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. Breathing was about the most basic thing for Dean to do. It was all he had to do to keep his brother safe.

They lay there next to each other in peaceful silence for what seemed like forever. He idly wondered where Sam was. He couldn’t believe that his brother was seventeen already. He wondered if he was taller than him yet. The kid had been growing like a weed before.

“What’s your favorite color, Dean?” Castiel’s voice snapped him out of his musings.

“Huh?” he asked, turning his head to look at the other man.

“Do you have a favorite color?”

Dean had to think a moment before replying, “Blue, I guess.”

“Mine used to be red, but now it seems to be green. Do you like the ocean or a lake?”

“Well I’ve never seem the ocean so I would say lake.”

“I have to agree, I hate the salt the ocean leaves on your skin anyway. Crunchy peanut butter or smooth?”

Dean narrowed his eyes now but answered all the same, “Smooth.”

“I’m a crunchy man myself, especially with raspberry jam. Tea or coffee?”

“Coffee everytime,” Dean scoffed as if there was some other option.

“Mmmm nothing better than a warm cup of coffee in the morning.”

“What’s with all the questions?” Dean fought against all his instincts and managed to look Castiel in the eyes, and boy, what beautiful eyes they were.

“I just want to get to know you better, that’s all,” Castiel smiled back up at the sun.

“But why? Why does that matter? I’m a slave, you do realize that right?” Dean clamped his mouth shut, horrified that he had stepped over some line. Cas was quiet for a moment but he didn’t seem to be mad, just speculative.

“I know you're a slave Dean, but that defines your circumstances, not you. I want to know who you are.”

“Still doesn’t explain why.” Dean mumbled, rolling onto his stomach and pillowing his head on his folded arms, looking over at Cas.

Castiel let out a sigh, flipping to his own stomach. Dean admired his firm body and the way the sunlight caught in his hair. Cas seemed so young, maybe he wasn't all that much older than Dean. His skin was smooth and looked soft except for a slight five o'clock shadow growing in.  
  
"I don't know if I have good answer for that, Dean. I just wanna know who you were before all this," Castiel glanced at Dean and then back out across the lawn.   
  
"I had a car," he blurted out and Castiel rolled on his side now, resting his head in his hand.   
  
"What kind?"   
  
"A 1967 Chevy Impala. She was beautiful, shiny black with hints of chrome. You should have heard the purr she had." Dean smiled thinking of his baby. He missed the smell of her leather and feel of her smooth wheel beneath his hands.   
  
"Wow, that's a very old car! You must have worked hard to keep her in good condition."   
  
Dean then began to tell Castiel all about his baby, when he got her from his dad at sixteen, what engine she had, the time he showed Sammy how to drive in a parking lot, the many times she was what they called home as a kid. The more he talked the more he began to feel a sensation of homesickness set in and lost his motivation to continue his story. He could be wrong, but thought maybe Cas sensed this and didn't push he when he suddenly went silent.   
  
Dean turned his head away and let a few tears escape when he was sure Cas couldn't see. He so desperately wanted to be back in his baby with Sam at his side, but that was a dream and something he would never have again, so there was no use in crying over it.   
  
"I'm hungry. Let's go have some dinner," Castiel reached out a hand and Dean took it, letting himself be hauled up.   
  
The next few weeks were by far the most peaceful Dean had had in his life, maybe even from before his enslavement as well. He still had nightmares, but since Cas was still letting Dean into his bed Cas would usually soothe Dean back to sleep. He still couldn't understand why Cas wasn't fucking him, since that was his purpose, and judging by the occasional boner he tried to hide, he found Dean attractive.   
  
Dean's favorite time was in the evening, sitting cross legged at Castiel's feet while they watched old action movies. Sometimes Castiel would card his fingers through Dean's hair, lulling him to a drowsy half-sleep.

All too soon, the day of his Master's return was upon them. Dean had woken before Castiel, reluctantly slipping from the bed. He quietly removed the sleep pants, boxers and tee shirt Castiel had given him, putting them in the dirty pile of clothes. He felt strange now being naked again, but he didn't dare let his Master find him with clothes on. He slunk down the stairs and could hear Tess and Jo speaking in low whispers.  
  
"Jo, you can't even think about it, they will catch you and they will kill you, or worse," Tessa hissed and Dean froze where he was, out of sight.   
  
"I don't care, I can't stay here a second longer. You don't need to cover for me, just don't get in my way." Jo pushed past Tessa and stomped off toward the kitchens. Dean waited till Tessa was gone as well before going down the stairs. He couldn't think about eating breakfast with the return of Nick - he wasn't sure he could keep anything down. For a brief moment he contemplated hiding from Cas, not thinking he could bear to watch the man leave. He also knew if he wasn't in position waiting for his Master, there would be hell to pay.   
  
"Dean," Castiel's voice came from the top of the stairs as he made his way down, bag in tow.   
  
"Morning, Master," Dean replied, figuring he better get used to the proper behaviour of a slave again.   
  
Castiel stopped short at the name as he eyed Dean where he stood, head bent down.   
  
"Dean, I- well I want you to know I am working very hard on something." This made Dean look up at him. Castiel dropped his voice, moving closer to Dean. "I hope to get you out of here, to buy you from Nick, I just need a few more months."   
  
"You want to buy me?" Dean didn't dare to hope such a thing.   
  
"Yes, I want to free you from... this," he hesitated and just gestured at Dean. "I don't have the money yet, but I will, if you can only hang on a little while longer. I promise I will come for you."   
  
Dean looked into Castiel's eyes then, something he still struggled against his training to do. He didn't have to look long to know Cas was telling the truth.   
  
"I'd like that," Dean replied when he heard footsteps by the front door. Dean's heart leapt in his throat, and he flew to his spot, falling to his knees, arms folded behind his back.   
  
Nick burst through the door with a wild, wicked gleam in his eye, "I'm home! You all miss me?!" he called in his loud, booming voice that made Dean flinch.   
  
Dean's Master was home and his small respite was ended, but maybe, just maybe if he could hang on there was an end in sight. Maybe not freedom, Castiel couldn't give him that, but peace? That was something worth waiting for. Surely he could last another few months...


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello All!  
> Okay I am posting this chapter early, so as I think I said before I am officially caught up with the chapters I had pre-written before posting. What does that mean? My posts will be a bit more erratic cause I am just going to post as soon as a chapter is done and edited, so you may get one soon like now or it may be a bit longer, just bare with me while I write as fast as I can. Phew okay that all being said I hope you guys like this chapter, I wrote from a totally new POV just because there was info you guys needed none of the guys know. Regular trigger warnings apply this chapter per usual.  
> <3

Ruby ran her fingers through her brown hair, twisting and pulling till it was up in a messy bun on top of her head, letting the cool night air in to the nape of her neck. She was glad it was summer but she was already tired of the humidity, and the damn hideout had one barely working AC unit. She had stepped outside to take a breather and get away from Meg’s insistent pestering.

“Ruby!” She looked up to see the tall, shaggy frame of Sam coming toward her down the alley.

“Keep your voice down,” she hissed at him. They were fairly secluded, but why take chances? 

“Did you know?” Sam lowered his voice, looming over her. The kid had grown at least two inches since she first met him and showed no signs of stopping.

“Did I know what?”

“The hospital that was bombed. Did you know they were gonna do that?”

_ Well fuck.  _

She had really hoped he wouldn’t have noticed, but honestly, Sam was smart and she should have known. “What did you expect, Sam?”

“What did I- What did I expect?! I sure as hell didn’t expect The Hand to bomb a hospital filled with innocent people!” Sam spat, backing her up against the wall. Anyone else and she may have felt intimidated, but despite Sam’s large size and obvious anger she knew he’d never hurt her.

“You call a bunch of gold bands innocent, now? This is war, Sam, or have you forgotten that? Sometimes in war there are going to be casualties.”

Sam stood back from her, running his fingers through his mop of hair. She could see his eyes glistening now and the guilt may as well have been written all over his face with a marker.

“I can’t believe this. I never would have given you those coordinates if I knew what would happen with them… Fuck!” He slammed a fist into the wall, pulling it back and hissing in pain.

“Don’t play all naive now, Sam. You’ve known all along what we planned to do with those locations. If we are going to take down the Fist, we have to take out their military weapons bases and if those bastards hide them under schools or hospitals we can’t be choosy about how we handle that. They don’t show mercy and neither can we.” She should have guessed he would react like this. Sam had a really annoying moral code.

“I’m out. I can’t do this anymore, not anymore… I can’t.” Sam threw his head back, cradling his bloodied knuckles.

Now she was going to have to play hardball. “It doesn’t work like that, Sam. Once you're in, you're in. There’s no backing out now.”

“Like hell, there isn’t. I’m through. You hear me?” He turned a heated glare on her.

“Fine, leave then. Good luck ever finding your brother, or rescuing him without me, or did you forget why you came crawling to me in the first place?”

“You haven’t done shit to save my brother. I've followed your rules and where has that gotten me, huh?”

“I haven’t done anything? So I guess you don’t wanna know the name of the guy that owns Dean’s contract, do you? I was planning to give you the info tonight, but if you're out, I guess you'll never know.”

Sam moved swiftly, bracketing his hands on either side of her face and staring down at her, snarling, “Where is he?”

“It doesn’t work like that - you don’t get free intel and then leave. If you wanna know, you gotta stay and get your ass back at that computer.”

“Tell me now, Ruby!

“Promise you’ll stay,” she countered.

Sam hesitated, looking her over. He leaned back, considering her. She could see the conflict in his eyes and knew he just needed a little push. 

“He’s a pleasure slave, owned by none other than Nick Perdition.”  She watched Sam’s face as that sunk in.

“Nick Perdition?” Sam’s voice was smaller now. “As in Perdition Enterprises? As in the money behind The Fist?” She watched the shock of it settle on his face as he slowly backed away from her, hands to his head. He sunk down against the opposite wall, putting his head between his knees. Now she could play comforting girlfriend and seal the deal back up. She leaned down next to him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, look, I know that’s not great news, but at least you know where he is, okay? And there's no way you will rescue him without our help. The Hand needs you, Sam. Dean needs you. Please don’t give up now when we are so close.” Sam’s shoulders slumped as tears rolled down his cheeks. He was beautiful like this, broken and pliant as she pulled him into her arms, rubbing his back and soothing him.

“I’ll stay,” he said quietly, wiping his eyes, resigned now. She pressed a kiss to his lips, tasting the salty tears.

“You’ll see, Sam, it’s all gonna work out. Why don’t you go inside and compose yourself, get some coffee, okay? I’ll be right back in.”

Sam nodded, dejected, getting up and heading into the headquarters. 

Ruby mentally patted herself on the back for a crisis averted as she heard a set of heels clicking up behind her. Turning, she saw Naomi approaching, and she stood up, brushing the stray hair out of her face.

“Ruby. I’m glad I’ve found you alone,” Naomi purred at her.

“What can I do for you, ma'am?”

“I just want an update on your team. We are hoping to launch another strike tomorrow night but we need to narrow down the time frame. Did Sam manage to hack into the security agency email yet?”

“No, but he should be back at work shortly. He was a bit… upset about the recent strike.” Naomi narrowed her eyes at her and she hastened to reassure her, “He's back at it now, I talked him down.”

“Good, he is one of our strongest hackers. We should be getting in some strong intel from Castiel, shortly, from his time at Perdition’s. But I swear, if I have to hear him go on about that little slave boy one more time… ” Naomi rolled her eyes. “Some people just can’t see the bigger picture.”

“He still doesn’t know about Sam, does he, ma’am?”

“No, of course not. So long as Sam has kept his mouth shut about his last name, no one should put two and two together. We can’t afford for him to know where Sam is - he is likely to snatch Dean and Sam and take off and we will be without his intel. No, his fear for Dean’s brother is the only thing keeping Castiel from blowing his cover. If he knows Sam is safe I doubt we will convince him to stay.”

“I did have to tell Sam about Nick, but I had to give him something to keep him quiet. Still, I think it’s best we make sure he stays away from working any of Castiel’s leads, just so he doesn’t try to contact him.”

Naomi nodded at this. “It's a fine line we walk, my dear, but someday very soon The Fist will fall, and The Hand will rise to take its place. The Hand won’t forget those who fought in its war, girl. Keep up the good work and report to me immediately once you have the transport timeline.”

“Will do, ma’am,” Ruby nodded as Naomi turned on her heels and left. Ruby had quite a few balls in the air now, but no one could ever accuse her of backing down from a challenge. She was going to make The Hand proud and Sam would understand. Someday, it was all going to be worth it.

 

***********************************

 

Dean concentrated hard on his breathing which was difficult when his Master's cock was choking him. His throat fluttered around the intrusion and he pressed his eyes shut, waiting for it to be over already. His master groaned above him moving in slow lazy thrusts while flipping through emails on his phone. Dean worked his tongue to try and move his Master along a little faster as his jaw was starting to ache something furious. Gordon burst through the office door then, his face flushed and Nick halted his movements looking up from his phone.

“One of the slaves sir, she ran,” Gordon looked more than a little scared as Nick pulled out of Dean’s mouth with a growl, tucking himself back in his pants.

“Which one? Where is she?!” Nick’s voice was laced with violence.

“It’s Jo, sir. I went to look for her and Tessa and Anna say they haven’t seen her since breakfast. I checked her tracking device and she is somewhere in the woods beyond the property. She must have found a hole in the fencing.”

Nick huffed, shoving his phone in his pocket. “Well, what the fuck are you still standing here for? Go get her! Take one of the guards with you and they will be lucky if they still have a job by tomorrow.”

Gordon bowed and bolted from the room. Dean watched his master warily as he paced the room a moment. Dean wished he could melt into the hardwood, because eventually that anger was going to be vented somewhere. He silently hoped that Jo would find a way to get out, maybe hitch a ride or dig out her transmitter. Surprisingly, Nick didn’t pay Dean any attention, just paced his office  answering the occasional email and checking his phone. It was nearly an hour before his phone buzzed and Nick answered.

“Yes...you have her?... good… put her out on the post and call Tessa and Anna out to watch as well. I’ll be right there.” Nick tucked his phone in his pocket, turning to Dean. “Come on now, pet, I am going to show you how we handle runaways.”

Dean was used to violence. Every day of his life at the Perdition house had been filled with it. He had almost become numb in a way to the regular abuse inflicted on his body, but too watch it inflicted on another was maybe worst of all. Nick laid into Jo with the whip over and over till her slave clothes were in bloody ribbons. Her cries felt like they might crush Dean’s soul - every one of them felt like it was calling to him for help.

“Worthless slave girl, look what you’ve done,” Nick hissed, pulling back the whip for another blow. Time stood still a moment as Jo turned her tear filled eyes on Dean and something deep inside him snapped. 

He stood from where he’d been kneeling behind his Master and lunged at Nick. He caught the large man off guard, knocking him to the ground and Dean followed after him, fists crashing into Nick’s face. Dean felt the break of bone under his knuckles and smiled, actually smiled with glee at the look of pain and shock on the man’s face below him.

Dean’s whole body sang with energy, but as he raised his fist for another blow he felt strong arms wrap around his waist, hauling him away from Nick. He kicked and yelled and fought against whoever held him. He felt more alive in that moment then he had in years. The man behind him made a few grunts of pain as Dean kicked his shins and elbowed his ribs, eventually dropping Dean on the grass in front of him.

That was when the white hot pain hit him. The shock of the cattle prod coursed through his body. His muscles all tightened, a scream caught in his throat, the burn searing through him. It felt like it went on for an eternity, but when it finally stopped his whole body went lax below him and a hard blow to the back of the head sent him into darkness.

He came to some time later to a pain in his shoulders. Blinking, he looked around and stared up at his bound wrists to see he was now tied to the post. He twisted to the side and caught the slightest glimpse of Jo’s tattered rags.

“You back with me, little slut?” Nick’s voice turned Dean’s blood to ice in his veins. He kept his breathing slow and didn’t dare to look up. He had really done it now. “Good, I wouldn’t want you to miss a minute of this.”

Dean knew that Nick was a vicious man, but he hadn’t realized that all those times he had beaten Dean or whipped him, he had been holding back. His Master wasn’t holding back anymore and Dean didn’t think any amount of the antiseptic spray would heal him this time. Dean was barely lucid when Nick walked up close to Dean’s face, panting and speckled in his blood  a mad look in his eye.

“I’m very disappointed in you, pet. I thought by now you knew better.” Nick wiped at the dried blood under his broken nose. “If you make it through the night, pretty pet, you're gonna wish you hadn’t. Maybe it’s time I let nature take its course and get my hands on some fresh meat. Maybe your little brother Sam will know better then to strike his Master.”

“Don-don’t touch em’ pleeease,” Dean mumbled weakly.

“That’s up to you, pretty,” Nick strode away then, leaving Dean strung up and half-conscious. It was one of the longest nights of his life. He tried whispering to Jo on the other side of the post but he only got small whimpers in return and eventually only silence. 

Dean watched the stars as he faded in and out of consciousness through the night. He thought about Sam and how much he loved the astronomy books from the library. Dean had wanted to get Sam a telescope for Christmas but John had drank the Christmas money he saved away. He wondered idly where Cas might be, if he was warm at home, tucked up on his couch watching TV. 

Morning finally broke and Dean watched as the sun began to rise up over the hedge bushes. He never thought he’d make the sunrise, but thoughts of Sam and Cas had kept him going on sheer will alone. He tried to speak, to call to Jo but his throat felt dry as sandpaper.

“Are they alive?” Nick's voice came from up by the house as footsteps approached.

“Girl's gone, but your pet is still breathing,” Gordon replied.

“Bury the girl out back with the others and contact the agency on her contract. I want to get my stipend for her being a runaway.”

“And your pet, sir?”

“Take him to the hole. I can’t stand to look at him.”

Dean blinked up at the sky as Gordon undid his wrist restraints.

“Take a good look at the sun now, boy, it’s the last you may ever see of it.” Gordon laughed as he hauled Dean into the dark.

 

**********************

 

"Are you heading there now?" Charlie's voice sounded strained but that was nothing new as of late.   
  
"Yes, I can't wait any longer. I didn't even see Dean at all on my last two visits - something is wrong, I can feel it." He had only gone to Nick's house twice more over the summer, and neither time had he seen Dean when he was there. Nick was volatile the past few months, to say the least. The Hand had drastically stepped up its offensive against The Fist and it had Nick on edge.   
  
"But do you think you have enough money?"   
  
"I have to hope it's enough. I can't wait any longer - I need to get him out of there today." Castiel's rough voice cracked a little from the stress.   
  
"Just be careful. You yourself said how hot-headed Nick has been lately. I don't want you getting in his crosshairs, okay?"   
  
"I love you, Charlie. Just cross your fingers, alright?"   
  
"Love you too, dummy. Be safe." Charlie hung up and Castiel hit the gas, heading for Nick's house.   
  
The leaves were starting to change color already, even though it was still early October. He hadn't laid eyes on Dean in four months now, and it had felt like an eternity to Cas. He nervously patted his side, feeling the small revolver tucked into his holster under his coat. He never normally carried a weapon - having a gold band kept him safe, even in rough areas. He wasn't even sure what possessed him to grab it out of his safe and put it on today.   
  
He pulled up to the house and took the familiar front steps two at a time, smoothing out his trench coat before knocking on the door. It swung open and he looked down at an unfamiliar face. The girl had big round brown eyes and thick black hair tied up in a bun.   
  
"Hello Master, may I help you?"   
  
"Uh, yes. I'm here to see Nick. I believe he is expecting me?"   
  
"Let him in, girl!" a booming voice came from inside the house and the girl flinched before opening the door for Cas to enter. He stepped inside and headed for the living room where he found Nick standing in front of the TV watching the evening news.   
  
"Do you see this?! Those rebel scum bombed another of my warehouses," Nick growled, gesturing at the TV.   
  
"It's gotten worse the past few weeks," Castiel remarked solemnly. This was not the mood he hoped to find Nick in.   
  
"And Michael won't lift a damn finger to crush these little piss ants! Why am I funding his damn war machine if he won't go to god damn war!" Nick was fuming now and looked mad enough to kill. Cas fought all his instincts to cower, reminding himself that as far as Nick knew, he was on his side.   
  
"I'm sure these rebels are no match for the power of The Fist. It won't carry on much longer." Nick just made a non-committal grunt and shut off the TV. He turned  eyeing Castiel and to his relief Nick began to soften. His cousin's mercurial nature never ceased to astound him - he could flip between emotions at the drop of a hat.   
  
"So what brings you here today, Cas?"   
  
He went to answer when Tessa stepped in, drawing Nick's attention.   
  
"Master, there is a call on your business line."   
  
Nick sighed, "Just a moment, cuz," and strode out of the room.   
  
Castiel was able to grab at Tessa's arm before she could slip away.   
  
"Tessa, where is Dean?" The girl darted a nervous look at him and then back toward Nick's study. "Please, is he alright? Is he even still here?"    
  
"He's here," she said, barely above a whisper.   
  
"Tessa, what is going on?"    
  
Before Tessa could reply, Nick was striding back into the room and the girl had flitted off toward the kitchens.   
  
"Sorry ‘bout that, this whole rebel business has our investors up in arms."   
  
"It's quite alright. I did have something to ask of you but maybe now is not the best time." He knew how to play Nick and he had to let the man feel like he was gonna be some kind of hero.   
  
"Nonsense. Whatever you need, I am here, what else is family for?"   
  
"Well, I have been fairly stressed lately and I have no time for relationships, you know how I feel with the demands of our careers. I had considered following in your footsteps and buying a pleasure slave." He had no idea how he managed to keep his voice so level.   
  
"’Bout time, I think that's just what you need," Nick smiled jovially at him.   
  
"Thing is, I haven't seen any that I would want. The only one I have any interest in is- oh this is foolish," Castiel waved it off.   
  
"Go on, spit it out, Cas."   
  
"Well, I do like your pet a great deal." He let that sink in, and a strange, dark look flitted across Nick's eyes and was gone in a heartbeat. "I could pay you of course, if you might consider selling him. I know how fond of him you are."   
  
Nick sighed, throwing an arm around Castiel's shoulder and he fought back the urge to pull away. "You really wouldn't want the worthless little cock-slut, cousin. The damn thing turned on me a few months back. I would have turned you down flat before then, he was truly one of my favorite pets, but now-" Nick let his voice trail off.   
  
Castiel fought down the rising panic in his gut. "What happened?"   
  
"Oh, you remember my little slave, the blonde one? She ran on me and the little bitch, he wasn't a fan of my punishment and lashed out. I hate to say but he isn't worth nearly half what I paid for him now. I actually intended to get a replacement in here soon, I already had this one too long, anyway."   
  
"If you are already getting rid of him, then I can take him off your hands."   
  
"But he's dangerous, Cas. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I gave you a violent pet that turned on you. What kind of cousin would I be if I did that?"   
  
"I assure you, Nick, I can handle it, really. He's the only one that has peaked my interest." Castiel felt the bile rise in his throat, wondering what state Dean was in.   
  
"If you saw him you may think twice, though I suppose he is still fuckable. You know what, Cas? I will make you a deal. You can take him, today, free of charge, a gift from me to you for all your loyalty this past year." Castiel's heart began to soar and he fought down the electric energy surging through him. "But I will keep his contract on him for at least the first six months, to be sure he doesn't misbehave. I think knowing I have his contract should be incentive enough to avoid a repeat of his bad behavior. If he puts a toe out of line or you'd rather get a fresh slave, you can return him anytime and I'll deal with him."   
  
Castiel froze a moment. It wasn't ideal - he had really hoped to get his name on Dean's contract. Without that Nick could come and take him back at any time, but he was out of options and his gut told him he needed to get Dean out of there that minute.   
  
"You're more than generous, Nick, really. I think that will work perfectly."   
  
"Wonderful. At least I can make one person happy today," Nick called Gordon and sent him to fetch Dean for Castiel. Nick chatted amicably about business while Castiel nodded away, focused solely on the fact that in a few minutes he was going to finally see Dean.   
  
Gordon was only gone maybe ten minutes but it seemed like an eternity to Castiel, who whipped his head around at the sound of approaching footsteps. Gordon had a hand firmly wrapped around a long leather leash. Dragging behind him came the crumpled form of a body.   
  
Castiel barely held back an audible gasp as he took Dean in. Never had he seen someone look so close to death that was still breathing. His skin was a pale grayish white and had a filthy tinge to it. Dean was impossibly pounds thinner than the last time he'd seen him, all muscle completely gone from his gaunt form. His body was littered with bruises and lash marks and barely-healed scars. He crouched behind Gordon, eyes pressed tightly shut, shielding his face with his arm. Castiel mustered every ounce of strength he had not to break down and cry at the sight of him.   
  
"Told you the little bitch was a mess. I've kept him in the hole ever since he hit me. He lost that privilege. I expect you'll continue a firm hand with him, Cas, don't take any chances."   
  
The notion that this broken person could pose any physical threat was absolutely absurd but he nodded emphatically at Nick. He said a hasty goodbye to Nick, thanking him again for his generosity and, grabbing hold of Dean's leash, headed for the door.   
  
Dean could barely move on his own, his legs shaking at the effort to crawl behind Castiel, eyes still fixed tightly shut. He didn't dare carry him for fear Nick may still be watching him. Nick didn't have cameras in his house, too paranoid they'd be used to spy on him, but he did have perimeter cameras.   
  
Finally he reached the car and hoisted up Dean's frail frame into the back seat, settling him on his side. He shucked off his trench coat and laid it over Dean  tucking in the sides to try and offer some warmth.   
  
"I'm here now, Dean. It's going to be okay, I promise. Just rest, we'll be home soon."   
  
Castiel climbed into the driver seat and sped for home, feeling a weight lifting off his chest with every mile he put between them and Nick. He had done it - he had finally gotten Dean out of there, but as he looked at the still, silent form of the man in the back seat, he wondered if he had been too late.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey All!  
> Okay we get some time with the boys and lots of healing coming. I think you will like the end, hope you are staying warm it is going to be negative 15 tomorrow during the day and holy hell that is just obscenely cold!!!! maybe I should just stay in and write lol.

Castiel glanced in his rear-view several times on the drive back to his apartment. The still form in the back seat hadn’t moved from the curled fetal position he had laid down in. Castiel spoke quietly in a soothing tone about how Dean just needed to hang on a little while longer and that everything would be okay.

There was no response, not so much as a word, and the silence was starting to worry him. If he couldn’t see the slow rise and fall of Dean’s chest, he would fear that he had stopped breathing. He pulled in to his parking garage and turned to look at Dean still curled up in the back seat.

“Dean? Dean we are my place, alright?” Still no response. He got out of the car and opened up the back door. He didn’t think Dean could walk, in fact Cas was starting to wonder if he shouldn’t take him to a hospital, but without Dean’s papers they would just check his band and call Nick.

“I’m gonna help get you upstairs, okay? And then you can rest, I promise.” He reached forward, wrapping his arms around Dean’s shoulders and lifting him to a slightly sitting position. This little movement produced a small whimpering sound from the other man, barely audible. He pulled the trench coat around Dean, wrapping it up around him. Cas wasn’t the strongest man, but Dean was incredibly light as he hefted him up into a bridal carry, kicking the car door shut behind him.

Dean’s eyes were still scrunched shut as Cas carried him to the elevator, but he felt the slight shivering from the other man and held him a bit tighter to his chest. There was a coppery tang that reached his nose along with the smell of sweat and sex. He would have loved to get Dean in the shower, but he was worried that may be too much for the man.

Once he reached his apartment he was glad none of his neighbors were around to see him carrying in the disheveled form. Even if slaves were poorly treated, very few owners went to such violent extremes as Nick did. 

He moved straight to his back guest room and lowered Dean down gently onto the bed. Dean immediately curled up and pulled the trench coat tight around himself. Cas clicked on a small lamp on the cabinet and saw Dean blink his eyes, seemingly trying to open them. He went into the bathroom and grabbed a cup of water and a warm wet washcloth before coming back into the room.

“It’s me, it’s Castiel. You’re safe now, Dean. I’m not gonna hurt you. Can you tell me if anything is broken?” Castiel kept his voice low and soothing as he wiped the cloth across Dean’s brow and gently wiped at his face. Dean’s breath was short and stilted, his eyes glazed over. Cas wondered if there were still drugs in his system.

Cas finished wiping his face clean and brought the cup to Dean’s lips, lifting his head with the other hand. He managed to get close to half a cup in him before Dean flopped back against the pillow, eyes closed. Cas felt in way over his head, and pulled out his cell, dialing Charlie as he stood in the doorway, keeping an eye on Dean.

“ _ How did it go?” _

“I got him, Charlie, bu- but he’s in really rough shape. I don’t know what to do with him.” Castiel ran his hand through his hair, trying to steady his breathing. Freaking out now wouldn’t help Dean.

“ _ Is he hurt? Does he need to go to the hospital?” _

“I’m sure he does. From what I can tell he's covered in bruises and cuts and I don’t know the last time he ate - he’s skin and bones. I can’t take him to a hospital though - Nick wouldn’t give me his papers. What do I do, Charlie?” he hissed at her, feeling incredibly helpless as Dean began visibly shaking again.

_ “Okay, what you need to do is calm the hell down. I’ll make a call and get some help over to you asap, okay? Just hang in there. Keep him warm and try and get water into him, alright?” _

“Okay, I can do that, but Charlie... Hurry, alright?”

“ _ You got it, chief.” _

Charlie hung up and Castiel hovered a moment before moving back to sit next to Dean on the bed. He thought he should try and remove his coat but Dean had a death grip on it. Instead he moved to pull the comforter over him and tucked it in on the sides. He carded his hands through Dean’s hair and talked to him in a low voice. He felt tears blur his eyes, but made sure to keep them at bay, knowing he had to hold it together. Seeing Dean so broken was beyond anything he could have imagined and the overwhelming guilt for not getting to him sooner was running on a loop in his head.

_ Ding, dong! _

Castiel stood to go to the door and felt weak fingers grasp his wrist. He turned to see blurry eyes looking at him, terrified.

He knelt down next to Dean and ran a soothing hand over his head. “I’ll be right back, okay? Just a second, help is here.”

It took a little effort to pull away from Dean but he jogged to the front of the house and pulled the door open to reveal the thin figure of Garth smiling at him.

“Hey, compadre. I hear your in need of some help. Wanna take a bag?” Garth had two large medical bags in each hand and Castiel lunged forward to grab the largest one from him.

“Uh, not that I am not happy to see you, Garth, but are you, uh, medically trained?”

“Oh yeah, field medic, actually. I can handle most trauma cases short of surgery. So, where's the patient?” 

Castiel sagged a bit with relief as he showed Garth to the guest room. Dean’s eyes went wide with fear at the sight of Garth and he began shaking in earnest all over. Cas sat next to him, shushing and trying to calm him.

“Dean, this is my friend, Garth. He is going to take a look at you and get you all fixed up, okay? He won’t hurt you, I promise.”

Dean looked exhausted, and he sagged in the bed, obviously too tired to maintain the gut fear reaction. Garth moved slowly and took Dean’s pulse, checking his eyes and looking in his throat.

“Okay, Dean, I am gonna get you feeling better real quick.” Garth hooked up an IV and pulled out some fluids, hanging the bag from the headboard. He proceeded to take a quick blood sample, pulling Castiel off to the side.

“I am gonna run his blood through my comp and see what chemicals they got in him. As long as there are no complications I can give him a pain reliever to help him rest and we can get a look at his wounds better.”

The next few hours were long and difficult. Cas and Garth managed to get some strong painkillers into Dean along with fluids and electrolytes. Then they started the arduous task of cataloging and treating all of his injuries. His ankle had a barely-healed break that Garth set in a velcro cast. There was also a small break in his right wrist, two metacarpals on his left hand, and four cracked ribs. Garth said that his jaw had been broken but had since healed, though there is scar tissue there. There were bruises and lacerations over his whole body. Cas and Garth managed to pry the trench coat free from Dean and clean off his skin, applying the healing antiseptic spray that Garth brought. Dean was mostly listless for the whole procedure, only grunting and making small huffed sounds every so often. Garth assured Castiel several times that Dean couldn’t feel a thing with the meds he gave him.

Dean’s abused hole was last, and the damage and tearing was severe, but Castiel hoped the spray and ointment Garth brought would help start the healing. Dean had gone limp and pliant to their ministrations, and once they were all done Castiel finally pulled up clean blankets around the man and Dean seemed to fall fast asleep. 

Castiel found Garth sitting out on his couch, rubbing his hands over his tired face. Castiel went to his liquor cabinet and poured them both a glass of whiskey, sitting down next to the other man. They sat in silence for a little while, sipping on their drinks.

“So is he- is he gonna be okay?” Castiel asked cautiously as he poured his own second glass, checking that the clock read nearly two am now.

“Physically? Yeah, he should be alright in time, everything on him can heal. Well, not too sure about his voice.”

“Voice?” 

“Yeah, I just took a quick look with my scope but gauging how he sounded I’d say there’s some good vocal cord damage, so try not to make him talk much over the next few weeks.”

“Fuck,” Castiel chugged back his shot and winced at the welcomed burn.

“That guy in there, I don’t know him but what I do know is he is one strong son of a gun. He made it this far, man.” Garth gave a loud hiccup and set down his half-drunk glass.

Castiel glanced up at the warm light from Dean’s room and let the tears fall. Silent sobs wracked through him while Garth patted his back and let him cry it out. 

“What if- what if I was too late?” his words were hoarse and strangled now.

“He’s breathing, man, so it’s not too late.” Garth smiled and leaned back, and in a few moments was passed out on the couch. Castiel took another glass of whiskey and headed into Dean’s room, settling down in an armchair next to him. He watched Dean’s slow, shallow breathing and thought of what might have been if they had met in some other normal life.

Castiel eventually drifted off into sleep, waking to morning light streaming into the room. He stretched and looked over to the bed to see two weary looking eyes staring back at him. He gave Dean a warm smile, leaning forward in his chair.

“Hello, Dean. Are you feeling any better?”

Dean’s eyes darted nervously around the room and he seem to be having trouble focusing. He settled on Castiel for a moment and there was a faint recognition.

“You’re at my house, Dean. You are safe, do you understand?”

Dean just blinked at him with heavy eyes, still looking very out of it. Castiel grabbed a cup of water from the nightstand and held it to Dean’s lips, coaxing him to drink. He didn’t get much in, just enough to wet Dean’s mouth. Dean slumped back against the pillow and his eyes closed as he fell back asleep.

The next few days were much the same. Dean didn’t speak and hardly moved as Castiel tried to coax broth and water into him. His eyes stared off into space if they were open at all. Luckily the spray had started to heal most of his superficial wounds and by the third day, Cas thought it was time for Dean to get out of bed and try and get him in the shower.

“Come on, Dean, you can lean on me all you need to. Garth said to keep off that ankle for a few more weeks.” Castiel wondered, not for the first time, if anything he said was actually registering with Dean. All the same, he helped to get Dean to sitting and pulled his legs out from under the covers. He was so much more frail than he had been in the spring, and it was startling.

Dean leaned into him, his frame shaking from the energy it took to hop to the bathroom. Castiel had a new large shower with a small built-in seat, something he was thankful for at the moment. He managed to ease Dean down onto the seat and tested that the water was a good temperature. He hesitated, watching Dean slumped and curled against the shower wall. He didn’t want to intrude on Dean’s privacy any more than he already felt he had, but he was nervous to leave him alone.

“Dean, can you shower on your own or do you need my help?”

Dean licked his lips a moment and furrowed his brow, but didn’t say anything.

“Can you just nod if you want my help?” 

Dean looked speculative and nodded his head fractionally. Castiel sighed, relieved, and grabbed the sprayer to begin rinsing him off, going over the still-healing bones on his wrist and ankle as lightly as possible. He soaped up the skin and went carefully, though most of the lacerations had closed over by now to pink angry lines, thanks to the spray. 

Dean’s shaking stopped under the warm water, and he let out a little contented huffing sound when Castiel shampooed his hair, massaging his scalp gently with his long fingers. A little bit of color came back to Dean’s cheeks, and his eyes seemed to be working harder to focus than they had been.

“You know, maybe once we get you dressed you could try and eat something more solid. I made some soup I could heat up for us?” Castiel offered as he rinsed the soap off of Dean and shut off the water.

He helped Dean towel off and then slipped the ankle and wrist braces back on, before handing Dean a pair of underwear, sweats and a long-sleeve tee. Dean stared at the pile of clothes a moment, and Cas realized Dean wasn’t sure whether he was allowed to put them on.

“Let’s get you dressed, alright?” He bent down and helped Dean step into the underwear and pants, and pulled the shirt down. He guided him back into the bedroom and settled him down on the arm chair so he could change the sheets on the bed. Even the small exertion had Dean looking utterly exhausted, slumped in the chair.

When Castiel finished making the bed with fresh, clean sheets he turned to find Dean fast asleep in the chair. He gently lifted the man again, laying him out on the bed and pulling the covers up around his shoulders. As he turned to leave, a hand gripped his wrist and turned to see pleading green eyes looking at him.

Dean looked like he was struggling to say something, so he leant down, putting his ear close to his mouth. Dean managed to whisper out a single word, “Stay.”

Castiel sighed, turning to look at Dean curled up on his side. He debated the ethics of it but climbed into the bed on the opposite side to Dean. The other man immediately rolled into him, clinging to his side like a barnacle and tucking his head under Castiel’s chin. He hushed and rubbed Dean’s back till his breathing slowed and Castiel was sure he was asleep. The warm weight of Dean against his chest soothed his own weary soul and he felt the pull of sleep from too many nights standing watch.

He woke with a fist slamming into his jaw and a frantic scrambling of limbs and blankets, all followed by a loud thumping sound. Castiel blinked himself awake, sitting bolt upright. He turned to see Dean crumpled on the floor in a pile of blankets and sheets, panting and eyes scrunched firmly shut. He was mumbling something. Castiel moved slowly, getting off the end of the bed and coming round to crouch a foot in front of the man.

“Dean, are you okay? Did you have a nightmare?” Castiel kept his voice low and soothing.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry Master, so sorry, please, please,” Dean was pleading in a raspy whisper of a voice and rocking back and forth, rolled in on himself as if awaiting a coming blow.

“Hey, it’s okay, Dean. You're safe, it’s just me, Castiel. You’re safe, no one is mad at you, I promise.” Castiel wanted to put a hand on his shoulder, but feared he may startle him more. Dean began sobbing and gasping for breath and Castiel couldn’t wait. He moved in slowly, pulling Dean in towards him. Those bright green eyes were glistening with tears and staring up at him, looking for something. He burrowed his face against Castiel’s chest and let the tears go. His voice was still wrecked, so the sobs were barely above a whisper, more like loud gasping breaths.

Castiel wasn’t sure how long they sat on the floor before Cas pulled Dean onto his lap. Eventually Dean went still and his muscles loosened under Castiel’s hands. He planted a soft kiss on Dean’s head and slowly lifted him back into the bed. His limbs were limp and pliable, obviously exhausted from his outburst. 

As Castiel sat and watched Dean, he wondered if would ever find a way to draw the man within back out. It was as if Dean was the light at the end of a long dark tunnel, and he feared that he may never reach it, no matter how hard he tried. Still, the light was there, and as long as it was, Castiel would try to reach it, no matter how long it took.

*********************

Dean knew he must make Master happy, but Master wasn’t there anymore to make happy. He wasn’t sure where his Master was, but he was glad to be back in the light again. He was in the light and things had started to hurt less. He could almost put full weight on his bad ankle that Master had stepped on. Sometimes when he closed his eyes, he was back in the dark place where Master hurt him so - an endless loop of pain and darkness. He kept waking up in the light, though, and he supposed that was a good thing.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed since he moved into the light. Sometimes Dean cried and he didn’t even know why, and the nice man with blue eyes held him till it stopped. Other times he couldn’t seem to feel anything, like he was weightless and away from his body. The blue-eyed man sometimes tried to talk to him when Dean was very far away, but he was too far to tell the man that.

Sometimes when Dean was very tired, he saw Master standing in the corner of the room where he slept or the bathroom where he showered. He was always leering and snarling at him and he begged Master not to hurt him, told him he will be good, but Master just disappeared like he was never there.

More time passed and Dean thought it had been many days now, and he began to recognize the blue-eyed man, remembered seeing him with Master. He said his name was Castiel and Dean thought that was a very silly name, though he liked the sound of it. He wanted to say the name, but his voice was pained and weak and he could barely talk above a whisper. Another strange-looking skinny man with big round eyes came to see Dean. He laughed a lot but Dean wasn’t sure why, and he told Dean that he could walk on the ankle now, but he should just use a cane and go slowly. He didn’t think he really needed the cane, but he didn’t think it was worth the breath to argue and Master didn’t like it when he argued.

Dean didn’t dare leave the room the blue-eyed man put him in, though he often told Dean he was free to move around. Every time he tried he heard Master’s voice, loud and booming in his ear,  _ STAY WHERE I PUT YOU, SLUT! _ And so he stayed right where he was.

“Dean, would you like to have lunch with me in the living room?” the blue-eyed man came into the room and Dean flinched, wondering how the man always managed to sneak up on him.

Dean shook his head slowly in response to the man. No, not man, Castiel.

“Please, Dean? It would make me so happy if you came with me and ate. I made us turkey clubs.” The man with the blue eyes looked pleadingly at him and Dean had a flash of seeing that face before, bringing a glass of cool water to his lips. He wished he could remember better, snippets of things came back to him slowly but it was like a jigsaw puzzle he couldn’t quite put back together. He looked up at the man again and saw the slow slump in his shoulders and recognized the sadness. He didn’t like seeing that. He saw it more than he wished, like when Dean saw his Master and begged, or when he cried out if the light went away. The man with the blue eyes turned to leave and Dean licked his lips and struggled to find words, but nothing came out.

He watched the open door and listened as the man walked down the hall. He missed the blue-eyed man. He hated being alone in the light room. He was always so alone and the man, Castiel, was always so soft and warm and smelled so good. Nothing like Master, who was all hard and rough and smelled of blood and sex and sweat.

Dean reached for the cane by the bedside table and gingerly lifted his sore body off the bed. Smiling that it was easier to get up than the day before and his insides didn’t feel like fire anymore, he moved slowly toward the doorway.

Dean had never seen down the hallway, but he always saw the blue-eyed man go left, so that was where he looked first. There was a hallway leading to a bright and sunny room, even brighter than the room Dean was kept in. The light was alluring and he wanted to go lie in the sunlight and curl up and feel the warmth of the sun on his skin.

A tremor went through him and here was his Master yelling in his head,  _ Filth! Think it’s okay to run from me, huh! You’ll never see the sun again! _ He blinked back tears a moment and mustered what little resolve he had to move slowly down the hall, leaning lightly on the cane. He turned the corner to see the blue-eyed man sitting on a couch with two plates of food on the table in front of him.

Dean’s stomach gave an audible growl and he blushed at the noise. Master hated when his stomach growled. The blue eyes looked up at him and they were even brighter blue in the sunny room and he thought they are the prettiest shade of blue he ever saw.

“Dean!” The blue eyed man smiled and Dean only flinched a little at the man’s deep voice. “Please, sit. I hope you like turkey! I didn’t have any tomatoes - I hope you don’t mind.”

Dean moved towards the man and slowly lowered himself next to him. He kept his eyes down on the sandwich and waited for the blue-eyed man to gesture with his hand before picking it up and taking a bite. It was delicious, and Dean thought he remembered the taste of this but he couldn’t remember a time when he ate anything but gruel. He found his stomach couldn’t hold as much food as the blue-eyed man always wanted him to eat, but he tried his best.

When he was done eating what he could, nearly half the sandwich, he turned to the blue-eyed man who smiled and held out a small metal-wrapped object in his hand. Dean thought it was very familiar, and he slowly took it in his hands and peeled back the wrapping to reveal a chocolate. He remembered then. He remembered Castiel. He remembered talking for hours in the grass, and sleeping warm against each other and remembered those sympathetic eyes as he handed him that glorious, creamy chocolate.

He looked up at the man and became a bit frightened when his vision was blurry but he blinked and realized it was just tears again. He licked his lips and fought to get the words out loud enough to be heard, “Castiel? Cas, its you?”

“Dean? Dean, do you remember me?” Castiel worried at his pink lower lip a moment.

“You got me out? I’m not with Master anymore?” He had to be sure, he had to know.

“Yes, Dean, yes, he won’t ever touch you again, not ever. You are safe here.” Castiel smiled at him, blinking away his own tears.

Dean popped the chocolate into his mouth and felt the silky candy melt on his tongue. He hummed his approval.

He gave Castiel a small smile. “Thank you, Cas,” Dean huffed out, though it ached his throat to muster the words. Castiel returned the smile and Dean shifted in his seat, needing to be closer to Cas. He curled up against the other man’s side, letting his eyes slip closed. The darkness wasn’t as scary so long as Cas was there to hold him, and he secretly wished that the other man would never let him go.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello All!!!  
> So when I sent this chapter to my editor Ellen of Oz she replied to me using all caps! I place the blame for this one WaywardJenn so please direct all comments to her... lol seriously I hope you guys like and as always I adore hearing from you all.  
> PS: Yes I will write the next chapter as fast as I can  
> Love CB

Castiel had felt like his heart might explode all over the room the moment Dean looked in his eyes and saw him, really saw him. It had been overwhelming for both them to say the least, and Castiel was proud he held tears back. Dean still stayed fairly silent and Castiel knew it wasn't just because of the damage to his throat. Feeling more comfortable, however, Dean had taken to trailing Cas around the apartment, not unlike he had done when Cas had stayed at Nick’s.

Castiel still struggled to get Dean to sit on any furniture. It was just too much of a trigger for him and he broke down in tears every time he attempted it. There was a growing unease behind Dean's eyes as they gained more and more lucidity and Castiel decided he had put off having the talk with Dean long enough. 

Dean was sitting in his favorite spot on the big window bench seat, knees curled to his chest, soaking in the sun. It was the only piece of furniture he willingly sat on, likely due to the draw of the window.

Castiel stopped to admire the way the sun lit up his golden brown hair and the smattering of freckles across his face. Dean was most at peace in the sunlight, and Castiel shuddered to imagine what it must have been like to be locked away in the dark for so long. He moved slowly as he always did and made his presence known as he moved to sit across from Dean, bending his own knees to his chest in a mirroring of Dean.

"I need to talk to you, about me and... about our situation, if you’re up for it?"

Dean eyed him a moment before nodding and giving a barely audible, "Yes, Master."

"Well that's part of it, Dean, the Master part, that we need to talk about." Castiel bit his lip, trying to think of how to word this when he noticed tears pricking Dean's eyes and scratchy, painful-sounding pleas were forced through his lips.

"Please Master, I'll be better I promise, I'll be better, please, please don't get rid of me, please!" Dean was gasping for breath and the words on his hoarse voice disappeared, so it was just silent lips moving.

Castiel shushed him and placed calming hands on Dean's arms. "Dean, you are safe here. No one is getting rid of anyone. Will you take a few deep breaths for me? Yes, there, just like that. I am going to tell you everything about who I really am and what I’ve been really doing all this time, and then, what that means for us, alright?" Dean sniffled a little but nodded his head. "I am trusting you with this information, Dean. I’m trusting you with my life just as I hope you have trusted me with yours. This information in the wrong hands could get me killed - do you understand?" 

Again, wide green eyes met his and he swallowed hard but gave a small nod.

"My mother and father left the Perdition family when I was around eight years old. They left because they did not agree with The Fist’s political policies and abuse of power. Mostly they were anti slavery. I grew up with my parents ideals for a free world where people weren't sold off like cattle. When my parents passed away, it meant a lot to me to carry that on to make them proud."

Castiel watched as Dean's face raised a little to look at him again.

"I joined a rebellion group. They’re known as The Hand. I think you have likely heard of them, no?"

Dean's eyes had gone wide and Castiel couldn't help but grin a little as Dean nodded.

"Well I joined as soon as I was nineteen a few years ago, and they asked me to reconnect with my cousin in order to spy on him and gain information for the rebellion. That is why I was at Nick's house the past year or so," Castiel watched Dean flinch at Nick's name, but he continued on. "As soon as I met you, Dean, I wanted to free you from Nick. It... it broke my heart watching him abuse you that way. The more I got to know you the more impressed I was by your spirit and strength. I tried and begged my superiors to help me set you free but they wouldn't let me do anything to jeopardize my work."

Castiel took a settling breath of his own, slowing his words a bit. "I didn't ask Nick to give you to me so I could own you, Dean. I want to help you become free. I want to get you back with your brother."

At the mention of his brother, Dean's head lifted up and he swallowed hard, narrowing his eyes at Cas. Dean seemed to mulling all that information over.

"How do I know- know this isn't a trick?" Dean's face was wary as he tried to figure out if Castiel was lying or not.

"I swear on my life that I am telling you the truth. If I could I would have driven you straight to your brother and put a gold band on your wrist this very minute. Hell, I would get us the hell out of the country if I could." He sighed, feeling his voice rise and watching Dean sink into himself a little at the raised tone.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound so upset, I just get frustrated that I can't do more. Nick didn't give me your contract, so I don't have the paperwork to free you in any legal way."

Dean cleared his throat a few times, struggling again to get words out. "And Sam?"

"I don't want you to be alarmed, but... I cannot find your brother. He left your father seemingly after you were sold, and since then there has been no record of a Sam Winchester showing up in any school system databases or in the copper logs either. It’s like he is in the wind."

Dean bit his lower lip a minute, considering, so Castiel decided to press on. "I would have just kidnapped you and snuck you across the border months ago if I could have found Sam and kept him safe too. I guess I should have asked you if cared whether he was taken-"

"I care!" Dean spat out with a cough. "No one touches Sammy," Dean said in a grave tone. Castiel couldn't stand to hear the pain in his weak voice and handed him a pencil and pad of paper so he didn't have to keep struggling to speak.

"I know you care, Dean, I knew you would never risk them going after your brother. So I want to run you through our options okay?"

Dean looked at him and wrote one word on the paper showing it to him, " _ our?" _

He smiled at him. "Yes, our plan. I am going to help you in any way I can, Dean. I need you to see that you not alone and I am only here to help you." 

Castiel watched Dean as his pencil started to move across the paper and he turned it to Castiel again.

" _ okay, so what’s next?" _

 

*************

 

Dean wasn't sure he believed Castiel's story. It was far fetched to believe this rich gold-banded man wanted to dismantle the whole establishment that gave him what he had. The more he thought about it, though, Castiel might just be that kind of man. He so desperately wanted to believe it was true and maybe that's what scared him so much. All he saw when he looked into those blue eyes were miles of compassion and a fierce underlying protectiveness.

If Cas really meant what he said then he was likely the bravest, most amazing man Dean had ever met. He was in utter awe of him. Only a madman would cast themselves willingly out of paradise to save a few lowly slaves. Dean made a decision then, as terrifying as it was, to simply believe Castiel. He realized that nothing worse could happen at this point and he should try to muster some courage and see this through.

"Alright Dean, there are two options I suppose, and I want you to know I support you fully, no matter what you decide."

Dean thought about that. He hadn't had to make any decisions about anything for a very very long time. The idea of it scared him, to be so brazen as to express a want. He gestured for Castiel to continue and took slow, steadying breaths as he listened.

"Option one is that I pack us in my car and move you to a sleeper cell of the rebellion where a team known as the Garrison will smuggle you across the border to freedom."

Dean had to admit the idea of being out of this country and as far from his Master as possible was appealing. He knew he couldn't do that though, seeing as that would put Sam in danger and almost certainly Castiel as well, so he shook his head.

"Okay then, you will stay here until we find your brother or get possession of your contract, at which time you can decide where you want to go from there, okay?"

Dean thought that through, if they found Sam and smuggled them both out it would be risky but the reward could be freedom. If they waited till they had his contract, then he and Sam could be free again together, without fleeing the country.

_ Free to starve to death when you can't find work _ . 

He didn't like any of his options, since they all held a certain level of risk, not only for himself but for Castiel and Sam as well. He sighed, pressing his forehead into his knees, feeling the welcome pressure on his sinuses. He loved the sun but he had been in the dark so long it often gave him headaches to be in the bright light for so long.

He still felt a bit in a fog at times, like he was very far away and it was hard to swim through the thick thoughts in his mind and be present. He must have slipped into one of these states because he jumped when he felt the press of a hand to his knee and looked up into concerned blue eyes.

"We find Sam," Dean managed to get out in a whisper and wondered for the hundredth time if he would ever get his voice back.

"We find Sam," Castiel repeated firmly and cast him a smile. Dean could look into that warm smile all day. It was even better than the sunlight.

 

***********************************

 

"Sam!" Bobby's voice boomed from downstairs and Sam stuffed that last essential into his backpack before flying down the stairs, landing at the bottom with a thump. He came around the corner to the kitchen to find Bobby making notes in his ledger book.

"Hey, Uncle Bobby," Sam greeted him, hoping against hope he didn't have another job for him to do.

"You should take it easy on those stairs - they aren't as young as they once were," Bobby grumbled.

"Neither are you, old man," Sam laughed as Bobby swatted at him and he grabbed an apple off the counter.

"Thin ice, boy. You finish the oil change on those vans I asked you for?"

"Yup, they are all set, and I fixed the flat on that sedan and I cleaned up the shop too." He had stayed up into the night to get it all done, hoping to have the day to himself for his plan.

"And is all your school work done?"

"Yes I passed my math test with a 98 and my history paper is all turned in." Bobby had insisted on him taking an online high school course. It had been a little tricky to create the “Sam Singer” alias, but they managed.

"So you planning to spend the day with that brunette you keep hiding from me?" Bobby got a sly grin on his face but didn't lift his head from the books.

Sam froze. He hadn't really told Bobby about Ruby, he hadn't really told Bobby much of anything, actually. He hated keeping secrets from Bobby, but he knew that he wouldn't approve of his work with the rebellion. He would say Sam was too young and to let him worry about finding Dean, but Sam wasn't a kid anymore. He stopped be a kid the day he came back to that motel room and his brother was gone.

"Yeah, actually. We were gonna go and make a day of it, if that's okay with you?" Bobby had inadvertently given Sam the perfect cover for his absence today.

"I guess that's alright, but you make it back here before curfew and bring that girl around to meet me soon, okay?"

Sam gave him a warm, genuine smile. "Thanks, Uncle Bobby. I'll see you later tonight."

Sam moved to leave when Bobby called after him, "Be careful, okay, Sam?" He waved and headed out the door, climbing into the Impala and feeling a shiver run through him as he started to make the trek to his destination.

He had heeded Ruby's warning about not talking to anyone about Dean. He trusted Kevin and even Frank with his life, but he wasn't quite ready to trust them with Dean's, so he had kept his research to himself. He had managed to track down the location of Nick Perdition's mansion - it was about a three-hour ride from Bobby's. Hopefully enough time to make it there and back before curfew or he would be hiding out in the car in the woods, hoping no rover vans caught him. Just the thought sent a shiver down his spine.

He arrived about a mile from the house and parked the car behind a couple of bushes. He felt his hands shake a little as he pulled out the suit he'd bought at a thrift store. It was pretty old and worn grey, plus the pants were too short but he hoped it wouldn't matter too much. He also realized he had no idea how to tie a tie and after twenty frustrating minutes, gave up and decided to go without, leaving the top two buttons undone.

It was a short walk to the house, and his nerves were frayed by the time he reached the front gate. The house was huge, in fact Sam would deem it more of a mansion if he was honest. A huge iron gate blocked the drive and there was a small guard shack that Sam approached.

He held his head high with a purpose and clutched onto his clipboard fiercely, waving at the guard with his other hand.

"How can I help you?" the guard grumbled at him, eyeing his worn suit and eyes, lingering over his silver bracelet for just a second before returning to his eyes 

"My name is Sam Wesson. I’m here from the Census Bureau. I was wondering if the head of the house was home and able to answer a few questions?" He plastered on a smile and watched as the guard picked up a phone and eyed him suspiciously.

Sam glanced up and saw a security camera and watched as it zoomed in on his face. He kept the grin plastered on and tried to slow his racing heart.

"Mr. Perdition accepts. You can head to the front door and someone will be with you shortly." the guard hit a buzzer button and Sam swallowed hard, nodding, and walked up the drive to the massive french doors.

He raised a hand to knock but the door swung open and a girl stood in front of him, eyes cast down.

"Uh, hello. I am here to talk to the head of the house?"

The thin waif of a red head nodded and held a hand for him to enter. Sam's heart raced as he realized he may be standing in the same house as his brother for the first time in just under two years. His eyes darted around the large, elegantly-tiled entryway and up the massive spiral staircase. Sam had never seen anything like it.

Sam heard footsteps approaching and moved to brush his hair out of his face, tucking it behind his ear. The figure of a tall, imposing man strode into the the room. He wore a crisp, navy suit that drew out the cool blue of his eyes. He was just barely taller than Sam but probably weighed twice as much and all in muscle. Sam looked into his eyes and the face turned up into a predatory leer that chilled Sam to the bones.

The voice that reached him was friendly but laced with malice and Sam knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was in the lion's den when he heard the simple words come out of the man's mouth.

"Welcome to my home, Sam."


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello All!  
> So I wrote this as fast as possible as promised, it is a shorter chapter but I felt the ending needed to be where it was. If you have questions about timing on things most of that will be answered next chapter in a Dean POV. I really hope you enjoy and you can blame WaywardJenn for this ending as well lol.  
> <3

Sam swallowed hard, forcing a smile onto his face. "Thank you, sir."

"Aren't we the polite one? So, what can I do for you today?" Nick - he figured it was Nick - crossed his arms, staring at him in a way that made Sam want to melt into the floor.

"I'm with the Census Bureau, going from house to house and just taking polls from people. Would you have a few minutes to answer my questionnaire?" He tried to control his breathing, to put as much confidence into his words as he could.

"For a handsome lad like yourself, I have all the time in the world. Come with me to my study." Nick turned to walk down the hall and Sam shuffled behind him, trying to look around and catch a glimpse of Dean.

The study was massive with a huge oaken desk and walls of books. There was also a couch over by a window and a lavish wet bar.

"Can I get you a drink? Are you even old enough?" Nick looked him up and down, making him feel naked even with his suit on.

"Uh, I’m all set, sir. Thank you anyways." He certainly wasn't stupid enough to take a drink from this guy. Dean had taught him that the night he brought Sam to his first high school party -  _ Don't take drinks from strangers, Sammy. They may just roofie a cute little thing like you _ . He remembered Dean laughing and Sam trying and failing to punch his brother’s arm, but Dean did make it quite clear that it wasn't just girls that could get drugged and he should watch himself.

"So, Sam, why don't you fire away with those questions?" Nick lifted a drink to his lips and sipped at it.

"Yes, sir. How many occupants are there in your household?"

"Well, six, if you include my assistant, Gordon. Though he lives out in a small guest house out back."

"And how many copper bands are kept on premises?"

"Three house slaves and one pleasure slave." Nick gave an innocent smile that wasn't fooling Sam. Sam went through a few more mundane questions that he had found on the Census Bureau’s site. If Nick were to go and look he would see the same questionnaire that Sam was giving him. Sam needed to stall for time - he hadn't seen Dean yet and he really needed to get eyes on him.

"I think that's all my questions. It’s very kind of you to make time - I’m sure you are a busy man." Sam was pretty sure flattery would get him everywhere with this guy.

"I am, but I know how to take the time to have a little fun and decompress. Isn't that right, pet?"

Nick turned his face toward the large oak desk and Sam's head whipped around faster than it should to see a small, naked figure crawl out from behind the desk. Sam hadn't even noticed anyone else in the room and for just a moment his heart leapt in his chest at the thought that it might be Dean. 

"Yes, Master." The voice of the boy reached his ears and his heart sank that it wasn’t Dean. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or terrified. The boy looked like hell, covered in fresh bruises and what looked like whip marks all up and down his legs and sides.

"Do you like him? I just got him a few weeks ago, to replace my last one. Not quite as pretty in the face, not nearly as pretty as you are either." Nick gave him a wink.

"May I ask why you got a new one if you liked the last one more?" Or in other words,  _ Where the fuck is my brother, asshole? _

"Curious one, I see. I was bored so I gave him up to a friend. Well, as you said, I am a busy man. Can you see yourself out?" Nick flashed him a pearly white smile.

"Oh yes, of course I can. Thank you again for your time." Sam walked backwards toward the door and snuck out as fast as he could. His heart was pounding in his chest as he walked to the door and saw the same red haired girl from before waiting to open it for him.

He walked up to her, darting a glance around before lowering his voice to barely above a whisper, "Do you know where Dean is?"

The girl’s big, round eyes shot up to meet his and seemed to hesitate a moment. She looked over her shoulder and ushered him toward the door with two words whispered to him as she shut the door behind him: "Castiel Novak."

Sam was bewildered but counted his lucky stars to be out of that house. He could still feel the man's gaze on him like a physical touch. He marched back to the Impala, breaking into a run once out of sight. He managed to make it back to the car before throwing up behind a bush. His body shook with each gag as his stomach emptied itself.

_ He wasn't there. Fuck, he wasn't there. _

He slumped against the side of the car and put his head between his knees. Visions of the injuries on that poor, starved boy flashed before his eyes, his mind helpfully putting Dean in that place, also covered in welts and bruises and looking half-starved. He nearly wretched again but there was nothing more for his stomach to toss up. Climbing back into the car, he started back for home.

He repeated the name the girl had given him over and over again in his head,  _ Castiel Novak, Castiel Novak, Castiel Novak _ . He strengthened his resolve for what he had to do once he reached the salvage yard.

It was late when he got home and the sun was just starting to set when he found Bobby sitting at the desk in his living room. Sam felt the wave that had been building in him crash down as he looked into the old man’s eyes.Tears came flooding out and he couldn't stop them, no matter how hard he tried. Bobby was up and patting him on the back, then walking him over to the couch where they sat down. 

Bobby tried to soothe him. "What on earth happened, Sam?"

"I- I- I'm so sorry, Bobby, I- I’ve been lying to you," he managed to gasp out, "but I need help now and I don't trust anyone else."

"Sounds like it’s about time for you to come clean with me, Sam, right this minute," Bobby sounded firm but not yet mad. 

Sam calmed down his sobs and began to tell Bobby everything - about meeting Ruby, working for the Hand, searching for Dean, and finally about his visit to Nick Perdition's estate. Bobby didn't say a word, or interrupt, but let Sam get the whole story out. Silence filled the room once Sam stopped talking and Bobby stood up and paced a few steps in front of him.

"You idjit!" he growled and Sam flinched a little. "Sam Winchester... for one of the smartest kids I ever met, you sure as shit can be dumb as a stump. I cannot believe you joined the rebellion. Do you know how dangerous that is? I thought you trusted me, Sam, trusted that I was going to help you find him?"

"I do trust you, but I knew you wouldn't approve and we weren't getting anywhere, Bobby. We needed help to find him!" Sam stood up, feeling a bit defensive now.

"You think I been sittin’ here with my thumb up my ass?! No, I been working my ass off with the rebellion to try and find your brother," Bobby grunted, grabbing an empty glass and popping the cork from a bottle of whiskey.

"You joined?" Sam’s jaw dropped open.

Bobby sighed, some of the anger deflated. "Of course I did. Hell, I been working with The Hand since before you came here. I didn't tell you ‘cause you’re too damn young to be involved." Bobby shot back two fingers worth of whiskey before pouring another and continuing. "I stay on the down low mostly. Work under the codename Rumsfeld, you know, after my old dog."

Sam searched his memory and remembered hearing about a Rumsfeld that helped coordinate several rescue missions and rover van interceptions. Bobby sat down at his desk and pulled open his laptop.

"What are you doing?"

"I am going to find this Castiel Novak and see about getting your damn brother home where he belongs. You gonna just stand there or come over here and make yourself useful?" Bobby was still obviously pissed, but he hadn't sent Sam packing so he figured he was at least temporarily forgiven.

“Bobby?” Sam licked his lips nervously and stared up at Bobby through his long hair.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks… for everything, I’m- I’m really sorry. I just want Dean home.” His voice dropped at the end and Bobby didn’t answer, just gave his shoulder a firm squeeze, and the two set to work.

*************************** 

Dean shifted uncomfortably, keeping his knees tucked up to his chin, and tapped the pencil on his paper. Castiel watched and waited while Dean decided what he wanted to say. Finally he wrote something down and looked at Cas, holding the page to his chest.

“Promise me,” Dean whispered out. “Promise nothing hap-happens to S-Sam?”

Castiel understood Dean’s hesitation. After all he’d been through, trust was gonna be hard to come by. The fact Dean trusted him at all was a miracle.

“Dean, I promise you I will do everything in my power to protect you and your brother.”

With a barely noticeable shake to his hand, Dean turned the paper over and showed Castiel the name written on it, Robert Singer, followed by a phone number.

“Do you want us to call him? I can help you talk if your voice isn’t feeling up to it?”

Dean nodded fervently. “Let me grab you some water first, okay?” Castiel jumped up and went to grab a glass of water for Dean, then settled back down on the window seat. He checked the phone number, dialing it but waiting to hit send. He looked at Dean’s wide, terrified eyes and held the phone out to him.

Dean’s shaking finger pressed the send button and Castiel put it on speaker. It rang three times before a gruff voice answered.

“Singer Salvage.”

“B-Bobby… it’s- it’s D-Dean.”

“Who?”

“Is this Bobby Singer?” Castiel interjected.

“Course it is, ya idjit. Who the hell is this?”

Dean shot Castiel a terrified glance as he was obviously struggling to talk. Castiel put a hand on his knee and cleared his throat.

“Mr. Singer, my name is Castiel Novak and I am here with Dean Winchester. He is having a little trouble speaking at the moment”

There was a pregnant pause on the other side of the line as Dean and Castiel both held their breaths.

“How did you get this number?” the voice on the line practically growled.

“B-Bobby it’s me Dean, me Bobby, it’s me, it’s me-” Dean wheezed out into the phone till his voice cracked.

“Dean? Boy, is that really you? Are you okay? We’ve been looking for you.”

Castiel watched the tears stream down Dean’s face, making his eyes shine. Dean grasped his hand that Cas had put on his knee, gripping it tight in his own.

“S-Sam?” Dean asked tentatively. Castiel almost winced at the obvious pain talking was causing him.

“Dean, who are you with?”

Castiel took this moment to jump in, deciding to take a big chance, knowing he had to show some trust if they were gonna get some. 

“Mr. Singer, I am here trying to help Dean find his brother. I managed to rescue him from his previous owner and our current circumstances are, well, complicated. I work with The Hand and my goal is to reunite Dean here with his brother.”

“That’s pretty damn bold to say to somebody you don’t know.” Castiel and Dean waited as the man on the line obviously thought things over. “Well, I don’t reckon there is anything in this world that would make Dean put his brother at risk. Hold on a sec.”

There was a muffled sound and voices talking from a distance.

A younger voice answered the phone. “Dean? Dean, is that you?!”

A fresh wave of tears burst from Dean’s eyes and his grip on Castiel’s hand tightened.

“S-Sammy, g-god Sam?” Dean managed to get the words out.

“Yeah, Dean, it’s me. I-I’ve been looking everywhere, everywhere for you. I never gave up, I swear I never gave up Dee-” the boy on the other line seemingly broke into tears.

“Hey, hey Sammy, it’s alright, okay? It’s alright.” Dean’s voice was at its limit and the sobs that were shaking his body weren’t helping.

“Dee, your voice sounds terrible. Are you okay? Where are you? I’m coming right this minute.”

Dean clutched at his throat with his free hand looking desperately at Cas. “Sam, this is Castiel. I am the one trying to help your brother. His voice was badly damaged a few weeks ago and talking is very hard for him. I promise I am doing all I can to help him heal, but talking is painful.”

“If you hurt my brother I will fucking kill you, you hear me?!” There was venom in the young man’s voice.

“And if I ever hurt Dean, I would deserve it. I promise, I mean your brother no harm. I would like to see you two reunited but I am not in possession of his contract. I cannot travel with him without great risk to him. Let me talk with Bobby and try to figure something out, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah okay. Can Dean still hear me?”

“He can, yes. You are on speaker.”

“Dee, I missed you. I-I’m coming for you okay? Just hang tight.”

Dean seemingly swallowed and managed to huff out, “Miss you too, bitch.”

A small sob on the other line was quickly cut off.

“See you soon, Jerk.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh My Chuck Guys!!! I can't believe how far into this story we are. OK my friends (yes I am calling you friends) this is a slightly longer chapter but I cover a good amount of ground. There will be a point in this chapter where I could have left an insane cliff hanger, you'll know it when you see it, but I kept writing cause mostly I couldn't stop myself lol. I hope you guys like this one we are covering more ground here. Thanks for all the support <3

Dean was exhausted following his long conversation with Castiel and his short one with Bobby and Sam. He rested his cheek on his knees and fought down a growing tremble as he listened to Castiel make plans with Bobby for a time to bring Sam to see him. He couldn't really focus on the words, drifting in and out, exhaustion pulling at him.

"You look pretty worn out. Do you want help getting to bed?" Castiel's warm, deep voice roused him.

Dean chewed his bottom lip and shook his head, hating to go to bed before the sun went down. Castiel smiled at him, fetching a blanket from the back of the couch and draping it over him. He stopped shaking and leaned back against the wall, resting his head on the cool glass of the window. Castiel moved to leave, but Dean grabbed the man’s wrist, halting him.

He licked his lips and tried to whisper but nothing came out. Feeling frustrated, he swallowed and tried again still failing. Castiel must have seen his frustration and tapped on the notepad still in Dean's hands. He took the pad and wrote a note to Castiel.

" _ Will I get my voice back?" _

"I don't know, Dean. Garth told me you would need to rest it and it may take time to recover but I think you may need further treatment to regain it completely."

Dean thought on that and wrote an answer back.

_ "There goes my dreams of joining a Zeppelin cover band." _

Castiel laughed out loud when he read it and Dean flinched a little but still managed a smile.

"If we get your voice fixed I expect to be serenaded," Castiel chuckled again and headed back toward the kitchen and his waiting laptop.

Dean tried to remember the last time he had laughed liked that and thought it might have been when Sam tripped on the foot bridge and fell in the mud ass over tea kettle. He'd laughed so hard that day at Sam's bitchface, his sides had ached. He smiled thinking of it. Sam had still refused to go home though so they continued their hike to the top of the gorge and ate cheese sandwiches with their legs dangling over the edge, throwing rocks at the water.

He shifted his gaze to Castiel at the kitchen table and watched him working. The hard line of his jaw was set firm and the tip of his pink tongue was visible as he stuck it out in concentration. Castiel would have totally been Dean's type before he was taken. Dark hair and blue eyes were a weakness of his. He studied the man's features and decided his hands were maybe his favorite part. He watched the long elegant fingers float across the keyboard and twirl a pen between his fingers.

Dean wondered for a moment how long he had been with Castiel now and he figured it was likely a few weeks. He hardly needed the cane any more and his wrist braces were off. Time was difficult for Dean to grasp anymore, especially since the darkness. He'd had no sense of day or night for what had amounted to months. Even now he tried to keep a clock within view so he could make sure he didn't miss large chunks of time.

He spent another two hours and thirty seven minutes by the window before the sun finished setting and Castiel called him to dinner. He approached the kitchen table eyeing the cushion that Castiel had placed on the floor for him. It had been a while since he tried to force himself into a chair or on the couch. He didn't even like sleeping in the bed, it just felt... wrong. The whole time he was there he just felt like he was waiting for the blow to fall. Castiel never pushed him and never made him feel as broken as he knew he was when he couldn't bear to sit on the furniture.

He looked at the bowl of macaroni and cheese steaming on the table waiting for him, and saw Castiel's even warmer smile. He took a few deep breaths through his nose and stepped past the pillow, carefully pulling out one of the kitchen chairs. He could feel the tremor starting but persisted in moving to sit in the chair, clutching the damn table like a lifeline. He felt incredibly stupid that something like this could be so hard, and he fought back tears.

Right as he was sure it was just too much and was about to move back to the safety of the floor Castiel's hand moved to cover his on the table. He kept his gaze fixed on the bowl of food in front of him.

"Take all the time you need, Dean. I promise it will get easier."

He slowly let out a big breath, then moved to grab the spoon in the bowl and pulled a bite to his lips. Silverware still felt awkward in his hands as well, though the benefits of not getting food all over his face was a good incentive.

_ Pets don't sit at the table and use people utensils, pets eat out of their doggy bowls on the floor, don't they, pretty? _

His Master’s voice taunted him and he tried to ignore it. The second the creamy, gooey noodles hit his tongue, all thoughts of anything else momentarily evaporated. He let out a long, low moan of pure unadulterated pleasure. He then heard the clink of a spoon dropping and looked to see Castiel scrambling to pick it up and blushing. He couldn't hold back the grin spreading across his face as he tried to politely ignore Castiel's reaction and continued to savor every bite of his dinner.

When they finished, Dean decided he would take the dishes to the sink, feeling a little tired of being waited on. Plus, he figured dishes were the least he could do after the food-gasm that dinner had given him. He moved toward the sink and saw a flash of Master’s arm raised and face red with anger. Next thing he knew he was kneeling on the ground, shaking, surrounded by shattered ceramic bowl pieces.

"Easy, Dean. You’re alright, you need to breathe for me." Castiel's hand was on his back but Dean couldn't stop hyperventilating and the tears were blinding him now.

"Okay, it’s okay. You’re not in any trouble, it was just an accident. I hated those ugly old bowls anyway." Dean felt himself pressed against Castiel's firm chest and desperately fought for control over his breathing, feeling light headed.

"S-sorry, I m-m-messed it up," Dean managed to wheeze out.

"Hush, don't worry a second about it, Dean. You did a lot today, I'm so proud of you. Why don't you go rest in the living room and let me clean this up, okay?"

Dean nodded and Castiel raised him back up to standing, eyes fixed on his feet till a firm hand lifted his chin.

"You are so brave, Dean. Do you hear me? You are the strongest person I have ever met, and you are getting stronger every day." Castiel's blue eyes were fierce and Dean shifted a bit, uncomfortable with the praise he didn't feel was earned.

Once Castiel let his chin go he headed for the living room and curled up on a cushion in front of the couch and picked at a loose string in the seam while he listened to Castiel cleaning up. Castiel quickly returned to the couch, sitting just next to Dean and flicked on the TV. Dean watched the cooking show and felt his heart slow and muscles relax.

He leaned against Castiel's leg and rested his head on the man's thigh. In answer Castiel ran his fingers through Dean's hair just how he liked it and let out a contented sigh. They stayed like that till Dean couldn't hold his eyes open and Castiel ushered him off to bed.

When Dean was first there Castiel had slept in a chair by his bed and a few times in the bed with him at his request. Dean had trouble sleeping in the room Castiel put him in. He didn't feel right being up in the bed on his own, but more than that, he didn't like being alone. If the dark pit had taught him anything it was that he would rather take the comfort of gentle, warm body against his than a warm bed and blanket any day.

Most nights he tossed and turned if he made it in bed at all. Usually he just waited till Castiel fell asleep and went to curl up on the floor by Castiel's door. He did the same tonight as Castiel wished him goodnight and headed off to his own room. Dean waited till the lights turned off and there was no more sound of shuffling before he crept out into the dark hall. He hated how dark it was and hated even more how it made his heart race. Still, he persisted till he reached Castiel's door and curled up in front of it. He always made sure to wake before Castiel did and return to his room before he was found out. Last thing he needed was Castiel adding this to the long list of reasons Dean was a weakling.

The clock in the hall ticked soothingly and Dean pillowed his head on his left arm, absentmindedly playing with the strings to his hoodie as sleep slowly found him.

_ "Worthless piece of trash! Get over here." _

_ Master's words crack like a whip and Dean whimpers folding in on himself. He can't see his Master, it’s too dark, but he knows his Master can see him. He can always see him. _

_ A heavy weight comes crashing down on his right wrist and he actually hears the sound of his snapping bones. He wails in agony as the weight, a boot maybe, twists and grinds the shards together.  _

_ "At least you still make such pretty sounds, my worthless whore." Master laughs loud. Dean is crying now uncontrollably. He knows his Master likes it when he cries, likes it when he screams, and he gives him what he wants. _

"Dean, wake up! You’re having a dream, Dean. Please, wake up!" A worried voice reached his ears and he gasped, opening his eyes and blinking at the light.

His heart was thumping out of his chest and he felt like he might puke. He felt warm, familiar hands rubbing circles on his back and Dean leaned in against him till he could hear the other man's heart beat settling him.

Once Dean had stopped shaking and the tears had dried Castiel slowly guided him to his feet.

"Would you feel better in my bed, Dean? Or I could take the chair for tonight in your room? I don't mind." In the low light coming from Castiel's bedroom his eyes were a deep navy blue. Dean's throat was killing him, likely from trying to scream in his dream so he simply pointed at Castiel's messy, rumpled bed. Lithe fingers slotted in with his and guided him into the bedroom. Dean slid in under the sheets and was surrounded by Castiel's wonderful scent. The other man moved in and curled up behind him, cautiously pulling Dean in till they were pressed reassuringly together.

His muscles relaxed and tension ebbed away. He still rubbed at his wrist, but felt only a small ache instead of the mind-numbing pain. He told himself he wasn't with Master anymore and he was safe, though as he stared at the copper band on his wrist he knew that was only half-true.

"If I could go anywhere and do anything, do you know what I'd do?" Castiel asked, his lips by Dean's ear. "I'd fix up my father’s old car, a 1963 Dodge Polara, and I would drive to the coast. I would go right through the mountains, across the plains and over the rivers till I reached the ocean. I would take off my shoes and roll up my pants and walk out into the cold ocean water and let it wash over me. I would collect up all the sea glass I could find and put it in a jar and walk the entire length of the beach till I couldn't walk any further. Then I'd make a small fire and watch the ocean and listen to the waves crashing."

Dean listened to the soothing cadence of Castiel's voice and imagined that drive. He imagined it in his Impala, of course, with Castiel shotgun and Sammy in the back seat. It did sound pretty perfect. Before he knew it, he was fast asleep.

Over the next few weeks, Dean continued to improve. He didn't need the cane and had started walking on the treadmill Castiel had in his office. His muscles were slowly coming back to him and he had finally started sitting on most of the furniture without a panic attack. Not that panic attacks still didn't happen - they were inevitable in a way - but he was recovering from them faster each day. Waiting for Sam to visit was starting to wear on him. He needed to see him in the flesh, to feel his gangly teen body in his arms to know he was whole and okay. Bobby and Castiel had agreed that waiting till they were sure Nick was out of town and not likely to drop by was safest, and Dean had grudgingly agreed while Sam had vocally protested.

He had started talking to Sam on the phone every night though. Sam understood that Dean still couldn't say much so he just rambled on about his day and any other nonsense that popped into his head. Just hearing his voice was more than Dean had ever dreamed of, not that he would ever tell the brat that.

He had also given up on sleeping in the guest room and had continued to share a bed with Castiel. Something about it just felt right, and though he hated to admit it, he felt safest close to him. He had noticed Castiel wake up with morning wood a few times and had chuckled as he had flushed red and snuck off to the shower. That is, until he woke up with morning wood himself and was pretty sure he may have been mumbling Castiel's name. It had been his turn to blush and sneak off to the shower. He had enjoyed his first orgasm in over a year, stroking himself under the warm water to thoughts of rumpled dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and long, talented fingers. 

A fear Dean didn't even know he'd had faded that morning, a fear that he would never want sex again. After all that his Master had done to pervert and twist the act into nothing but pain and misery, he was shocked to find he could still be aroused and enjoy the overwhelming relief that came with his release. He wondered if masturbation was ever recommended for treatment of anxiety and was laughing to himself as he came out of the shower. Castiel cocked his head to the side and gave him a curious look that only made Dean laugh harder till tears were in his eyes.

Without thinking he walked up to Cas and leaned in, chuckle still on his lips, and kissed him. Just a slow warm kiss, no tongue. He delighted in the way Castiel gave a shiver and tiny moan at the contact. He pulled back, smiling at the other man when a loud buzzing emanated from Castiel's pocket and he moved to grab his phone, flustered and fumbling.

Castiel's eyes went dark as he read the text and his brow furrowed. Dean's hackles immediately rose at the tension now radiating off of Cas.

Cas took a deep breath before speaking. "Dean... Nick is coming here. He’ll be here in five minutes." 

Dean went down like a sack of potatoes, as his world whited out.

*******************************

Castiel couldn't believe it was finally happening. He knew it was a possibility, even a likely one, but now Nick was really going to be at his house in a few minutes and Dean was curled up on the floor shaking and staring ahead with blank eyes. Crap. He was so screwed.

"Dean?" He called the man’s name while he ducked under the small desk in his room and pulled out his pistol hidden there. He checked that it was loaded and had the safety on. "Dean, I need you to stay with me, okay?"

He put a steadying hand on Dean's shoulder. Thankfully, green eyes turned up to meet him. He smiled at Dean to try and help both of them stay calm. Dean slowly sat up a little as Castiel crouched in front of him.

"Do you trust me, Dean?" Green eyes searched his a moment and Dean's jaw seemed to stiffen as he nodded his consent. "I know you are scared, and I hate to ask this of you after all that you have been through. I need you to try and pretend to be my slave while Nick is here. He likely just wants to see that all is well with us. If we try to run before he gets here, we will get caught - the nearest garrison outpost is nearly ten hours away. But I want you to understand something." He held up the gun for Dean to see, his eyes widening at it. "If he tries to take you, I will shoot him dead. He will never hurt you again so long as I draw breath. Do you understand me?"

Dean drew in a slow, calm breath and slowly rose to his shaky feet. He looked at Castiel and slowly removed his towel, hanging it over the back of a chair before turning back to Castiel. Dean gave him a small nod,  _ I trust you _ . 

Castiel was completely in awe of Dean's trust and bravery in that moment. "We will get through this together, okay? There’s just one more thing." He moved to the bottom drawer by his night stand and pulled out a plastic bag. He had hoped not to need this but he knew they would never fool Nick without it. He turned and held out a brown leather collar to Dean.

Dean's eyes went wide again and a tremor shook his body, which he quickly fought down.

"I'm so sorry, Dean, it’s just that Nick needs to believe the lie." He truly hoped that Dean understood he never in a million years wanted to inflict this humiliation on Dean, but their options were limited. A loud knock on the door made both men jump. Castiel tucked the gun in his back waistband and watched as Dean took the collar from him and buckled it around his own neck.

"Stay in here unless I call you out, alright?" Castiel leaned in and kissed Dean's forehead a moment before turning to go and answer the door.

He pulled it open to see Nick leaning in the doorjam, large and looming.

"Nick! What a pleasant surprise," Castiel smiled at the man.

"Cuz! It's been too long." Nick strode into the apartment, peering around with a critical eye. He had an intimidating presence that was only magnified in the small space of his apartment.

"Would you like a drink? Water, or something from the bar?" Castiel hoped he could distract Nick from Dean for as long as possible.

"Whiskey on the rocks... Nice place you have here, cousin, though I thought you could do a little bigger. Am I not paying you enough?"

_ Well, I was saving every penny to buy Dean _ .

"Not at all, I just don't need a lot of space." Nick nodded, waiting in between the kitchen and living room, glancing down the back hallway. Castiel brought him his whiskey and made himself a watered-down one, wanting to keep his wits about him.

"Thanks, Cassie. So where is our little pet? He’s still behaving himself I hope?"

_ Fuck. Here we go. _

"He’s doing very well... DEAN can you come out here?" he called down the hall, trying to keep the tension out of his voice. He felt about ready to pass out from stress - he could only imagine how Dean felt.

It took a moment, but Dean emerged from his bedroom, naked all but for the collar, hands clasped behind his back and eyes fixed on the floor. He practically glided across the floor on shaky legs coming to kneel at Castiel's feet, head bowed. Castiel placed a hand on Dean's head for comfort to both of them. He could tell Dean was avoiding looking at Nick and trying to keep Castiel between himself and the other man as much as possible.

"There's my pretty. Look at me, pet, I want to see your face."

Dean slowly raised his chin to Nick, eyes only meeting Nick's throat.

"Well, he looks well. You've been spoiling him, haven't you?" Nick smiled and winked at Castiel who chuckled and cleared his throat.

"I am a bit of a softy, but Dean has been incredibly well-behaved."

Nick barked a laugh that made both of them jump a little. "I should hope so." Nick leaned down into Dean's face till he was only inches from him. "After what happened last spring I think that pretty here should have a good understanding of what happens to slaves who misbehave." Nick's voice was laced with venom and Castiel felt Dean sway a bit under his hand. He firmed up his grip.

"He has made me very happy, so much more relaxed. I can't thank you enough, Nick." He put as much ass-kissing praise into his words as possible.

"I'm glad to hear it. You enjoy his tight little hole then aye? Pretty, why don't you turn around and give us a look?" It sounded like a syrupy sweet question, but they both knew it was a direct order. Castiel had his free hand slightly back by his gun, ready to do what he had to if Nick made a move. Dean glanced at him and gave the smallest imperceptible shake of his head. It went against all his instincts but he moved his hand back to his side as Dean shuffled in front of them.

Bending over, Dean pressed his face into the cool tile floor with arms folded on the small of his back and ass in the air, knees shoulder width apart. This was obviously a pose that Nick had put him in several times, and Dean moved into it with a mechanical muscle memory. Castiel tried not to shake with rage, as he fought down the urge to strangle the man next to him.

"Such a pretty little fuck hole, isn't it? Even after all that use, still looks tight as ever." Nick reached out a hand and gave Dean's ass a light smack and Dean flinched, scrunching his eyes shut.

Castiel was seeing red and it was an incredible struggle to not let that anger seep out him. Nick would read it on him in a second. 

"Aww, already possessive of him, huh Cassie?" Nick said teasingly. Obviously Castiel wasn't doing such a good job of keeping his feelings from showing.

"Sorry, Nick." Castiel gave Nick a sheepish smile which Nick happily returned.

"It’s alright, I don't blame you." Nick didn't take his eyes off Dean, giving him a hungry, appraising look. Castiel prayed that Nick didn't make a move on Dean and force his hand. The chances of them escaping to safety after killing Nick were slim at best but he was willing to take the risk before letting Nick hurt him again. "However much I would love to make use of pretty here, I am afraid I have important business we need to discuss and then I’m needed across town."

"Yes, of course. Let’s sit, shall we? Dean, heel." Castiel sighed internally with relief and Dean quickly crawled to his side. Nick sat in his big arm chair while Castiel seated himself perched on the couch with Dean kneeling at his side, a hand discreetly gripping his ankle. Castiel kept a hand on Dean's shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze as he sipped his whiskey. He felt immeasurably better with his body as a buffer between Nick and Dean.

"I'll be frank, Castiel, I believe there is a mole in my organization."

Castiel decided he should take up acting as a secondary job since as he managed to keep the terrified look off his face. He did, however, notice Dean's grip tighten just a little.

"The Hand has made a few moves against us the past few months that have seriously impacted our weapons stores and copper convoys. The arrogant bastards freed nearly two thousand slaves last month from a convoy of rover vans that only a small number of people were aware of. Michael is too arrogant to admit it, but war is coming, I can smell it in the air, and we need to clean house before it starts. The rebels are not to be underestimated, their leader is a violent loose cannon."

Castiel had to bite back a laugh at that, considering Nick was the most ruthless person he ever met. "Do you have any leads yet?"

"No, we are just starting the investigation. Knowledge is power, Castiel, grandfather always taught us that. Even just this one mole with the right information could bring it all crumbling down." Nick's voice went a bit dark as he swirled his drink.

"Surely one person can't hurt something as powerful as The Fist?"

"Don't be too sure, cousin, and believe me if we ever saw the day that happened, you'd live to regret it."

"I-I'd what?" Castiel couldn't hide his fluster.

"That gold band on your wrist, the one that gives you so much power? That will put a target on your back the second the rebels would take power."

"But aren't the rebels peaceable? I mean, from what I have heard?"

Nick laughed, smacking his thigh and Dean shook next to him. "Peaceable? You think they are any less savage then The Fist can be? Oh yes I have heard their dark radio broadcasts, ‘freedom for the people, identity bands burned, equality for all’... Do you really think that equality will stretch to anyone caught with a gold band on their wrist?" Nick raised his eyebrows but Castiel wasn't sure what to say. "You know that convoy I told you about? Do you know what happened to the men driving those trucks?"

Castiel shook his head,  _ No but I bet your gonna tell me _ .

"Tortured them for information for hours then beheaded them all. This is why the rebels cannot come to power. They would have the dirt of the earth stepping over their betters. It will be chaos - more lives will be lost then you can imagine."

Castiel felt sick at Nick's words. He knew The Hand had to take violent measures at times but torture and execution? He hoped that Nick was just trying to scare him with his story.

"We have to do what we can to make sure that never happens, then," Castiel replied firmly. 

"I knew I could count on you. All you can really trust in this world is family, Castiel - remember that." Nick rose from his seat with Castiel quickly following. "I’m heading to the capital to meet with Michael over the next week. So if you need me, make sure to reach me at my cell."

"Yes, just let me know if there is anything I can do to help." Castiel smiled warmly at Nick, still feeling the bile burning his throat.

"You just keep a careful eye out, and enjoy pretty there. I am glad to see he isn't giving you any trouble. I will always take him back if he is."

"No, no, I’m sure he will continue to be good for me. Thank you for visiting, Nick."

"Next time you owe me some of grandma's stew. I know that your mom had the recipe." Nick wagged a finger at him.

"Yes, of course. I’m sure I have it somewhere."

"Goodbye, my pretty bitch. You mind your new Master or I'll be back." He gave Dean a glare before turning to smile at Castiel and sweeping out the door.

Castiel waited, listening at the door till the elevator dinged. He then slumped back against the door, sliding down to the floor and put his head between his knees. He tried to steady himself when he felt the light touch of a hand on his shin. He looked up into wide green eyes. He expected to see terror or disgust in those eyes. He was shocked when all he saw was concern. Dean was concerned about him. He burst into tears, actual sobs that began to fall out of him like a flood.

"Sorry, Dean, I am so sorry," he mumbled over and over and suddenly Dean had crawled into his lap, wrapping his arms around Castiel's neck and burrowing his face in the crook of his neck.

"H-h-h-he's g-g-gone now, Cas," Dean whispered out in his ear. Castiel was hit with another wave of tears, that Dean would be comforting him after going through such an ordeal - it was absolutely shameful. He couldn't seem to stop crying though, anymore than he could let Dean go. So they sat on the floor, holding each other close until the tears ran dry, clinging to one another as if their lives depended on it, and just maybe they did.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Friends!  
> Okay a lot happens this chapter, I admit that I struggled writing this one, I was unsure if I was getting across all the feelings I knew the characters were going through. My Beta readers waywardjenn and EllenOfOz have both assured me this chapter is good so hoping you all agree. Buckle in for feelings!   
> <3  
> CB

Dean managed to somehow coax Castiel onto the couch and wrapped a blanket around him. He was honestly a bit shocked that he hadn’t had an all-out panic attack himself, and kept waiting for it to sink in. Maybe it was that Castiel needed him, but he felt strangely calm. It took him a moment to realize that Castiel was falling into new tears every time he saw Dean, likely due to the collar and lack of clothes. Dean hurried back in the bedroom and removed the collar and tossed on a pair of sweats and tee shirt, before padding back out into the living room.

“Stay put,” Dean ordered in his low, raspy voice when Castiel looked about to get off the couch. Dean paused for a minute when Castiel looked at him and sank back down. That had been the first command he had issued in nearly two years. It felt strange, like he should be expecting a blow or something, but one more look at the distraught man on the couch and he firmed his resolve. 

He moved to the kitchen and found the tea kettle on the stove. He began heating up the water, then searched around for mugs, eventually finding some of Castiel’s tea. Castiel was a big coffee guy, much like Dean had been before he was taken. Still, he knew that Castiel had a calming tea he often gave Dean after panic attacks, and he thought that might be better than mainlining caffeine.

He marvelled at how moving about a kitchen came back to him. He hadn’t really done anything in the kitchen since he came to stay at Castiel’s feeling awkward and out of place, never being allowed near the kitchen at his Master’s place. He brought the two steaming mugs to the couch and sat down cross-legged next to Castiel, handing him a mug.

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said in his low rumble, just breathing in the steam from the tea. He nodded and they sat in silence sipping on their teas for a while. Dean let his mind wander to some of the things Nick had said. He was beginning to realize just how dangerous what Castiel was doing really was. Here was man who could live any life he pleased, hell, he could leave this godforsaken country and make a new life anywhere, but he chose to be here, to do this and take these risks.

“ _ If Master finds out about you… you’re dead _ ?” He wrote the note, passing it to Castiel.

“Yes, if he finds out, I think dead will be best case scenario. I don’t want you to worry about that, Dean, that is not your concern. I can take care of myself.” Castiel gave him a wan smile and Dean furrowed his brows.

“ _ Horse shit, it is my concern.” _ Dean stabbed the pen down on the page.

Castiel sighed. “You’ve been through enough. You don’t need to worry about me, really. I’m sorry for losing it on you like that. I just… the thought of losing you… I’m sorry that you had to go through that, and then take care of me when I should be comforting you.”

Dean thought on that a moment. Castiel had freaked out more for Dean’s safety then his own. He should have known better. He realized something then, a new resolve forming in his chest. He had to think on the wording and scratched and rewrote the note several times before handing it over to Castiel to read.

“ _ If I leave I blow your cover, and then you can’t continue to spy on  _ _ master  _ _ Nick, and you can’t help the resistance, and you can’t help save all the other people like me. You would have to go on the run. I think that even if we get my contract I should stay here, so you can keep helping the resistance. I think it’s the right thing to do, and I want to see men like him stopped for good. So if you’re game, I am game.” _

Castiel read the note a few times before finally looking up him with those piercing blue eyes, now rimmed red from crying.

“Dean, if you stay here, it will only get more dangerous, you’d be putting your life on the line right alongside me. You wouldn’t be able to go and be with Sam for possibly a very long time. Are you sure that’s something you want? You have already given so much - this seems like too much to ask of anyone.”

“I want to do it. It’s my choice,” Dean rasped out. 

“It might mean more visits like that from Nick. You really want to sign up for that?” Castiel barked a sardonic laugh and shook his head.

“I can handle it, if you can.” He gave Castiel a stern glare now over the mug and wondered where the hell this Dean had been hiding. Castiel seemed to be thinking the same thing, as a genuine smile broke across his face.

“Well then, partners in espionage?” Castiel raised his mug and Dean chuckled hoarsely, clinking his mug to Castiel’s. He knew it was taking a risk but he also knew some risks were worth it.

“Well, Christmas in a few days, and Nick is out of town. What do you think about having Sam and Bobby over for the holidays?” Castiel offered and Dean tried and failed to keep the hopeful smile off his face before nodding vigorously.

It took some time to make the arrangements, but before Dean knew it Christmas Eve had arrived and Sam was due any minute. He was a nervous wreck, pacing the apartment back and forth, up and down the hall. He had changed jeans and tee shirts numerous times before Castiel told him Sam likely wouldn’t care if he had a black tee shirt or a grey tee shirt.

“I am starting to think I shouldn’t have given you so much coffee this morning. Everything is gonna be fine, Dean. Why don’t you sit for a little?” Castiel offered, watching Dean make his third lap around the sofa.

He just sighed and went to the window seat, peering out to the street below. People milled about and a light snowfall had started. Dean began to worry - what if the snow was too bad and they couldn’t make it? What if they got stuck in the snow trying to get here and a rover van picked them up? What if they crashed in the snow and no one found them till they were popsicles on the side of the road?!

Dean frantically looked to Castiel and tapped aggressively on the window, gesturing at the snow.

_ You seeing this?! _

Castiel smiled warmly. “It’s only supposed to be a few inches and it should stop snowing soon. They will be fine.”

Dean scowled, seriously doubting that. Castiel had brought in a small Charlie-Brown-style tree and strung up a few lights on it. He was now busily cooking what Dean would classify as a feast. He did have to admit that Castiel was an excellent cook.

There was a buzz at the door speaker and Dean nearly jumped a mile, his heart racing. Castiel gave him a comforting little grin before removing his apron and going to the speaker box. 

“Come on up,” he called and buzzed the call button for downstairs.

************* 

Castiel watched as Dean leapt off the window seat like a skittish deer and stood, face tight, standing back from the door. Castiel moved towards him slowly and put a hand on Dean’s shoulder, rubbing a small circle with his thumb. There was a small tremble to Dean’s frozen stance. 

“It’s going to be fine, Dean,” he tried to offer in his most soothing voice, though he doubted Dean was really listening, his eyes fixed on the front door. He really wanted everything to go smoothly for Dean and he knew this had been a long time coming. 

He felt Dean jump slightly when there was a knock at the door. One last squeeze to Dean’s shoulder and he moved to get the door, wondering what this Sam would look like. He swung the door open to reveal a tall, gangly teenager. He had brown, floppy hair and hazel eyes that held just a hint of the vibrant green in Dean’s eyes. The silence in the room was palpable for those few short seconds as the brothers locked eyes.

“Dean?” Sam’s surprisingly deep voice broke the silence and the young man moved right past Castiel. He turned to watch as the two brothers practically crashed into each other. Long limbs wrapped around one another in a tight embrace. Castiel watched as an older man with a low cut beard moved into the doorway giving Castiel a once over. He nodded at him and gestured for him to come in before quickly shutting the door.

He watched Dean’s face, eyes scrunched shut and pressed against the boy’s hair. He knew Dean was likely making a valiant effort to hold back the tears though he was fairly certain Sam had already lost that battle.

“It’s me, Sammy,” he heard the familiar hoarse whisper. The two reluctantly pulled apart keeping hands gripped tight on each others shoulders as if the other might float away if they let go.

“I never thought… I never thought I’d see you again,” Sam spoke first, staring at his brother and looking him up and down like he still expected it to be a dream. Castiel felt his own chest ache for the two of them, standing quietly back by the bearded man he assumed was Bobby. He noticed a glassy look to Bobby’s eyes as well and was a bit surprised to see such emotion on such a gruff looking person.

“Tall,” Dean rasped out with a smile and Sam laughed.

“Yeah, think I’m taller than you now, but my shins freaking kill.” 

This made Bobby bark a laugh. “Idjit’s been growin’ so fast his legs hurt. Gotta keep a supply of aspirin around.”

Dean looked up at Bobby then and gave him a warm smile. Bobby moved toward Dean and, letting Sam go, Dean fell into the man’s arms. He was taller but he folded in on him gripped his canvas vest tight in his hands.

“Really glad to see ya, boy. We never stopped looking.” Bobby’s voice was low and a bit choked.

Castiel’s own eyes were filling with tears so he took a few calming breaths before clearing his throat so all three turned to look at him.

“Uh, how about you all have a seat. Can I get you anything to drink?” Castiel moved to the kitchen getting drinks and snacks for the three men who were now sitting on the couch flanking Dean. He felt a bit like an outsider, looking in on what was obviously a tight-knit family. 

He busied himself in the kitchen, fetching them drinks and foods, trying not to intrude as they talked. Dean shot him glances every few minutes like he always seemed to do, tracking where he was in the room. Castiel urged them all to the kitchen table for dinner, eventually. He had to admit he may have overdone it a bit, at least judging by the looks on the three men’s faces. There was a roast, potatoes, green bean casserole, sweet potatoes, and host of other sides that took up the majority of his kitchen table.

Dean looked at the food and smirked at him, green eyes genuinely sparkling. They all took a chair and began digging in. Dean had come a long way in the past four months and Cas knew that eating at the table and utensils were still difficult for him. He was certain that Bobby and Sam didn’t notice - only Castiel saw the little flinches at the fork or the small shifting in his seat on the chair. 

“Did you hear from Naomi?” Bobby grunted after a mouthful of food.

“No. Why?” He tilted his head, concerned by the look on the old man’s face.

“We aren’t far from war, you know. Naomi has been reaching out to all the many fingers of The Hand, so to speak. Things are moving fast.”

“Yes, I’ve been watching the news. Things can’t stay the way they are much longer.”

Dean and Sam were eating quieter now, eyes fixed on their plates. Castiel thought they both looked very young in that moment, and maybe just a little lost.

“Well, you and Dean here in the Capitol, that’s bound to be dangerous… You got an exit plan?” Bobby glared at Castiel with a look Castiel hadn’t seen since his own father had been alive.

“Dean’s coming home with us soon though, right?” Sam chimed in, looking between Bobby and Cas, then to his brother. Dean shot a look to Castiel as if he wasn’t sure what to say. Castiel himself chewed his bottom lip and took a sip of wine before looking to Sam and Bobby.

“Dean and I talked and he made the decision to stay here until my reconnaissance is over. So it may be a while before Dean will come home, Sam.”

Sam’s face began to turn beet red with anger and he stood up from the table, nearly toppling his chair over.

“Bullshit he is. Dean is coming home.” Sam slammed a hand on the table and Dean visibly cringed, looking pale.

“Cool it there, and sit your ass down, Sam,” Bobby growled. Sam looked a bit abashed at the scolding and sat back down in his chair still glaring.

Dean cleared his throat a moment, looking only at Sam now. “It’s my choice, Sammy. It’s not forever, just a while longer.”

“But you’ve been gone two years already! That’s long enough.” Sam’s voice had lost some of its heat. 

Dean smiled at his brother. “So what’s a little longer, right?”

“It’s dangerous,” Sam added.

“Everything is dangerous, it always will be so long as The Fist has power. This is about more than you and me.” Dean’s voice was quiet and strained but he managed to get the words out.

“So, as I was saying, how would you idjits plan to get out of the city?”

“We’d drive. My car has good plates and I have an emergency go bag that I keep ready. The closest outpost for The Hand is an eight hour drive from here, but that would be our destination.”

Bobby nodded at him in seeming approval. Castiel had spent far too many nights debating this terrifying plan but he would do what he had to. Running was going to come eventually, and when it did, he was going to be ready.

“For tonight, I thought Sam and Dean could take the guest room and I have an air mattress set up in the office.”

“Thanks, that’ll do just fine. Sam and I should be heading back tomorrow anyway, before curfew hits.”

Sam frowned again, pushing his food around on his plate. Dean watched his brother a moment before looking at Castiel hopefully.

“I made some pie for dessert and we could put on a movie?” Castiel offered and Sam gave a small smile.

“You really do know my brother if you made pie. Is it apple?”

Castiel chuckled. “Yes, Dean insisted.” 

Dean gave a shrug and a smile as if to say,  _ Yeah, so, it’s good pie. _

Castiel felt the tiniest bit of tension ebb from the room. 

*****************

Sam felt stuffed. Bobby was a good cook but Castiel’s food had been mouth-watering and he wondered how Dean could be so thin with food that good. Waiting to see Dean had really taken its toll on Sam, hardly able to sleep more than a few hours at a time. He still felt like it was surreal seeing him in the flesh.

Dean looked exactly the same and yet completely different than Sam had remembered. His bright green eyes had dulled a bit and seemed glassy and far off at times. His body was leaner, more wiry than he remembered and he looked thinner and paler like he hadn’t seen the sun in a long time. There were a few faint scars on his face that hadn’t been there before. The biggest thing Sam had noticed, though, was how reserved Dean seemed. His boisterous and often loud older brother was now calm and quiet. He still didn’t understand what had happened to Dean’s voice and hoped that he might tell him later when they were alone.

Sam watched as Dean helped Castiel with the dishes, the two of them moved swiftly through the kitchen. There was something there between the two of them. Sam had been skeptical of Castiel at first, but watching him now, he somehow knew the man was no threat. Still, the glances between Cas and Dean held a kind of weight to them. Each always seemed to be aware of where the other was at all times. 

Sam scolded himself for reading too much into it - they lived together and they’d been through a lot together so that was likely it. He continued to watch them, though, and he was pretty certain Bobby was doing the same.

They all eventually settled in the living room, watching TV and eating way too many slices of Castiel’s pie. Bobby and Castiel sat at the kitchen table, hunched together, talking about the resistance and the recent attacks. Sam fiddled with the small package in his coat pocket before finally pulling it out. He cleared his throat a little and looked at Dean, who turned to him with a puzzled look.

“I uh- I’ve been holding onto this… I got it for your birthday before you- before you left. I planned to give it to you when I rescued you but Cas kinda beat me to the rescue.” Sam fiddled with the worn newspaper and slowly held it out to Dean.

Dean began pulling at the old scotch tape and Sam felt his heart rate pick up a bit. “It’s nothing special, I just found it and thought it would be cool.”

Dean opened the paper and reached in, pulling out a long black cord. He placed the pendant in his other hand examining it a moment. Sam was feeling more and more foolish looking at the necklace. It was a silly gift, Sam knew.

“I love it, Sammy! Thanks.” Dean smiled at him, eyes going a bit glassy. He put it on over his head and situated it on his chest. “Where did you get it?”

“I found it down by the river bed, actually. When I looked it up I found out it’s a talisman that can bring protection, so I put it on a cord for you. Should have given to you sooner, huh.”

Dean put a hand on Sam’s knee then brought his eyes up to meet Sam’s.

“What happened is not your fault. None of it is your fault, Sam.” Dean stared at him intently.

“If I was there, or if Dad hadn’t thought I could make him money-”

“No, none of that, you hear me? You are not to blame.” Dean’s words crashed down on Sam and he felt the weight of the guilt choking him. Before he knew it he was silently crying a heavy stream of tears. He felt Dean’s arms wrap around him and a soothing hand rubbing circles on his back.

“So sorry, Sammy. It wasn’t your fault, okay?”

“It was- it was my fault! I didn’t stop it, I didn’t save you. If I hadn’t been at the library-” The words just fell out of Sam in a torrent but Dean only continued to hold him and hush him as he sobbed like a goddamn baby. The last time he’d cried that hard was when he got lost in the woods when he was seven and it had taken Dean half the night to find him.

“Sammy, look at me.” Dean pulled back and Sam wiped the tears from his eyes, face burning with humiliation. “There are a lot of people who deserve a lot of blame but you ain’t one of them. You are the only reason I survived - you were my reason to keep going. I’d have been dead a long time ago if it wasn’t for you. So no more blaming yourself, not for another second.” Dean coughed at the end and took a sip of water, the speech taking a toll on his voice. Sam breathed deep a moment, looking at Dean. He felt the weight lifting off himself a little and gave Dean a nod, since he didn’t trust his own voice.

They all eventually decided it was time for bed and Sam brushed his teeth and climbed into the opposite side of the big king bed in Castiel’s guest room. It looked starched and clean and he thought that was strange considering Dean had been living in there for a few months. They had often shared a bed growing up as the money became more and more scarce. Sam had actually found it incredibly hard to sleep without Dean’s soft snoring beside him.

The bed was comfortable, the blankets warm and soft - much nicer than the lumpy mattress and scratchy sheets at Bobby’s. He turned off all the lights and they wished each other goodnight. It wasn’t long before he was fast asleep, letting the stress of the day leave his tired muscles.

He was awoken sometime later to the sound of someone moaning and crying and a hard kick to his leg.

“Ow! What the hell?” Sam sat up and looked over at Dean. Dean was drenched in a cold sweat, face scrunched up in pain, legs kicking out wildly under the sheets. He sat in shock for a moment, listening to Dean’s hoarse pleas.

“No, please stop! I’ll be good, please no more, please. It hurts please stop, it hurts!”

Horrified, Sam put a hand on Dean’s shoulder and talked low and quiet, “Dean, it’s me, Sam. You’re safe, Dean, it’s just a bad dream. Wake up.”

“I’m sorry! Please Master, please...” His voice cracked as tears streamed down his face and Sam was panicking, unsure of what to do. Just then the bedroom door opened and Castiel switched on a light, sweeping into the room. His eyes locked on Dean, he moved onto the edge of the bed. He sat Dean up and moved to sit behind him, pulling Dean in close with a bear hug, arms tightly holding Dean’s thrashing limbs down.

“Dean, it’s Castiel. You’re safe, wake up for me, okay?” Castiel’s deep rumbling voice was soothing and firm. “Come on, Dean, wake up. It’s okay, I am right here.”

Dean stopped crying out and went very still, except for the gasping in of breath. His eyes opened but they stared blankly at the carpet. Castiel slowly moved one of his hands to Dean’s hair, stroking the top of his head like a skittish animal. Sam sat there, dumbfounded and lost as to what to do.

“Sam, can you go to the kitchen and put on a kettle so we can make some tea?” Castiel asked in a calming voice. Dean had gone all but limp in the man’s arms now, and something in Castiel’s face told Sam this was not the first time he’d done this. Sam only nodded, heading for the kitchen and quickly brewing the tea. He found a mug already sitting on the counter and a box of calming camomile tea with it. He brought the tea back into the room to find Dean sitting up in bed now, arms wrapped around his knees and Castiel sitting on the edge, one hand loosely on Dean’s ankle.

“I made the tea,” Sam said, handing the mug to Castiel who smiled at him before handing it to Dean. Dean’s eyes were still fixed on the floor but they seemed a little more clear like he was really awake this time. He took the tea without protest and slowly sipped it.

“Feeling better?” Castiel asked and Dean nodded a little. Sam stood awkwardly, unsure of what to say. “I’m gonna go show Sam where to put the tea away. We’ll be right back.” Castiel stood up and ushered Sam out the door and down the hall to the kitchen.

“What was that?” Sam asked quietly.

“Did you turn out all the lights before you went to bed?” Castiel asked, moving to put the tea box away.

“Yeah, we did. Why?”

Castiel gave him a sad smile. “Your brother was kept in a dark place for a very long time. He doesn’t do well in complete darkness anymore. He sleeps better if there is a small light on.”

“Does… does he always get nightmares like that?” Sam was horrified, thinking back to absolute terror he heard in his big brother’s voice.

“Sam, your brother has been through a great deal in the past two years, and he has come a very long way, but he still carries those scars with him. He gets better every day but some things stay with us, do you understand?”

Sam’s head sagged a little. “They really hurt him, didn’t they?”

“Yes… yes they really did, but your brother is the strongest man I ever met, and he is going to be okay.”

Sam nodded again and they both went back toward the guest room where Dean sat, forehead pressed to his knees.

“Good night. I’m just across the hall if either of you need me.” There was reluctance Sam saw there as if Castiel was forcing himself to leave.

Sam moved back into the bed next to Dean who wasn’t looking at him. He didn’t know what to say in this situation. Dean had always been the one to take care of him, watch over him and now that Dean needed him for once, he felt like he was failing him.

“It’s okay, Dean, you can talk to me about it if you want to.”

Dean sighed and lifted his head. He grabbed a notepad from the side table and handed Sam a scribbled note.

“ _ I’m sorry you had to see that, I’m okay though, or I will be I promise. I didn’t mean to scare you.” _

“It’s okay, Dean, really. Seems like Castiel is a big help though, huh?”

Dean smiled then, a real genuine quirk to his mouth and he nodded.

“Can I ask you something?” Dean shrugged his consent. “Are you and Castiel… are you guys together?”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up and he flushed a bright red. That was really all the answer Sam needed but he read Dean’s note all the same.

“ _ Go back to sleep, Sammy.” _

Sam smiled at him and Dean lay down and pulled the covers back up, a small light from the bathroom still on.

“For the record, I like the guy. You could do a lot worse.” Sam smiled as Dean punched his shoulder and couldn’t help but chuckle. “Good night, Jerk.”

“Night Bitch,” Dean rasped out and turned over, effectively ending the conversation. Sam was pretty sure that Castiel was Dean’s guardian angel and if anyone deserved one it was his brother. Sam settled back down to a comfortable, peaceful sleep, his big brother’s soft snores telling him it was all gonna be okay.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Readers!  
> I am back. I am sorry that this chapter took so long to get out. I was writing a Valentine fic with a friend and then real life just smacked me in the face really hard and I haven't been able to work on any of my fics. Trying to find a new place to live and find my horse a new barn and interviewing for new potential jobs my life is full of changes and I don't love change. (even though I hopes its all for the better). So I didn't wanna rush writing this chapter cause so many big things happen. I hope you all enjoy I am hopefully gonna be back to full writing steam but if the postings are a bit delayed its not that I am not thinking about it just real life sucks lol.   
> Love you all,  
> CB

The time came for Sam and Bobby to go home. Dean was proud that he had managed to keep it together when they left, but his heart ached letting Sam go. If he thought Sam was with anyone other than Bobby he never could have done it, but he knew that Bobby would keep him as safe as Dean would, likely safer. Still, as Castiel began doing dishes Dean stared out the window, missing his brother. He was tired of feeling sorry for himself, and he moved into the kitchen where Castiel was scrubbing at a very dirty pot.

“Can I help?” Dean smiled and gestured at the dishes and Castiel’s eyes almost twinkled as he nodded and handed Dean a clean rag. They stood shoulder to shoulder while Castiel cleaned and Dean dried. Castiel’s fingers would occasionally brush up against Dean’s and he tried to ignore the tiny shiver that ran through him when they did. 

Dean's fingers slipped, dropping his rag into the soapy water and splashing Castiel. Cas glared at him a moment, but then, smiling, turned the sprayer on Dean, catching him in the face. Dean yipped and jumped back, grabbing the wet rag and flinging water at Castiel. They both laughed, spraying water and flinging it back and forth. Dean lunged to grab the sprayer from Castiel's hand and pressed up against him, pulling at it till Castiel cried uncle. They both stood there a second, panting and smiling, water dripping off of them.

Dean stared at the other man a moment, smile dimpling his cheeks and creasing his eyes. Castiel smiled with his eyes, Dean realized, and wished he did it more often. He wanted to kiss that smile, something he hadn't done since that first kiss right before Nick showed up. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought of his old master, and he quickly pushed it out of his head. Castiel seemed to be watching him, cautious and curious. 

Dean knew that Cas would never make a move on him, not after all he'd been through. No, Dean was going to have to move things along if he wanted Castiel that way, and he really, really did. He was nervous as he placed a hand on Castiel's hip, thumb moving over the curve of the bone. He moved a step closer so there was barely an inch between them. He breathed in Castiel's familiar smell, and ran his tongue over his upper lip. Castiel's breath hitched in his chest and Dean gave him a knowing grin. All his movements were slow and deliberate to try and keep his anxiety at bay. He wanted this, but he also didn't want to send himself into a panic attack, shaking on the floor, either.

"Dean." His name on Castiel's lips sounded low and deep and there was a question to it. He didn't say anything, he simply moved his lips to meet Castiel's. The kiss was soft and chaste, just the press of his lips to Castiel's, and he rocked his hips against him, moving his other hand to grab hold of Castiel's bicep. Castiel's hands were braced firmly on the counter behind him and Dean ran his hand down the man's arm, pulling it toward him. Getting with the program, Castiel's hands moved, one to Dean's hip and the other to cup his face.

Dean's lips parted with a small, satisfied sigh, and the kiss deepened as he opened up for Castiel. The sensation of Castiel's long, lean body flush with his was exhilarating. His heart rate quickened and for the first time in a long time, it wasn't in fear, but in pleasure. Dean let out a low, wanton moan as Castiel's fingers gently squeezed his hips. 

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door that made Dean nearly jump out of his skin, gripping Castiel like a life preserver.

"Easy. Let me see who it is." Castiel's voice was steady and soothing, but Dean could still hear the underlying fear. Another knock and Castiel pulled himself from Dean's grasp and moved to the door. Dean's heart was leaping out of his chest as he moved toward the back hall. If it was Nick, he needed to move quickly to get undressed and find the damn collar. His heart sank at the thought. 

Castiel looked through the peephole and gave a small sigh of relief. Turning an apologetic smile to Dean, he opened the door and a small figure hurried inside.

"Cas!" the person, a girl, squealed and jumped up, wrapping skinny arms around his neck. She buried her face in his neck as he scooped her up off the floor in a hug. The hood from her sweatshirt fell down, revealing waves of beautiful red hair.

"Charlie, why didn't you call?" Castiel chuckled warmly, setting her down.

"I couldn't, my line is compromised. I'll get a new one set up soon, but I couldn't wait to bring over my surprise." Her eyes darted around the room until she settled on Dean. She let go of Castiel and bounded up to him, sticking out a hand for him to shake. "Hi, Dean, I'm Charlie. I am so glad to finally meet you." Her smile was warm and inviting and he returned it best he could, shaking her hand.

"Dean, Charlie is my best friend and works for the resistance," Castiel added, ushering her and Dean to sit at the kitchen table. Charlie grabbed her backpack and dug around in it, pulling out a small white cylindrical item and handing it to Dean.

"Merry Christmas!" she beamed and he stared at her in confusion. "Oh, I guess I should explain the mystery item. I got this from Garth. It took a lot of maneuvering since its still in testing, but its an inhaler. Garth said you have nodules on your vocal cords from over use over time and normally the only way to get rid of them is with a complex surgery. However the evil douchebag guys developed this inhaler using the same science as their antiseptic spray. It is meant to heal damaged lungs from inhaling toxic gas, but Garth thinks it might fix your voice issue. Two pumps of this two times a day for a week and you should be good as new."

Dean stared down at the little white tube in his hand in disbelief. He was beginning to get comfortable with the idea of never really getting his voice back, adding it to the list of things this life had taken from him. The idea that he might talk again, easily, without pain, was overwhelming. He felt a strong, comforting hand grip his shoulder and he ducked his head to swipe away the unbidden tears.

"Thank you, Charlie. This is amazing, it means a lot to us," Castiel replied for him and Dean didn't miss the use of the word  _ us _ . He liked the sound of it a lot. Dean managed a hoarse “thank you” and smiled at the happy redhead.

"I love Christmas! I feel just like Santa. Oh! That reminds me, I have one more thing for you, way less fun but also useful." She pulled a long, rolled-up sheet of paper and flattened it out, covering half the kitchen table. Dean and Castiel leaned over using salt and pepper shakers to hold down the sides. It was a map, that much was clear. He thought it looked like a map of The Fist, but it wasn't quite right.

"Where is this?" Dean asked, clearing his throat.

"Map of North America. Are these all the rebel out posts?" Castiel asked, pointing at a few blue dots on the map.

"Yup, and these here are the military bases for The Fist in green. Naomi wants you to try and confirm the locations in red and what kind of weapon stores are there. I didn't think I could get a safe enough file to you so I brought this. Kinda feels like going on a quest, right?" Charlie smiled up at them but Castiel just rolled his eyes.

"This is real life, Charlie, not a game, but thank you. I think I can confirm most of these."

"Well, I wish I could stay but its not safe for me out in the open you know, and I wanna get back before curfew hits." She bounded up from her seat and began rifling through her backpack one more time, pulling out a small disk drive and handing it to Castiel.

"What's this? More intel?"

She gave a mischievous smirk. "Think of it more as educational videos. I put on  _ Star Wars _ ,  _ Indiana Jones _ ,  _ Lord of the Rings _ , and few other classics for you guys."

"Thanks, Charlie," Dean smiled at her and, feeling a bit more courageous, stood up to give her another earnest hug. Dean would never have told Castiel his movie selection was substandard but it was sorely lacking the classics.

"You are most welcome. Happy Christmas, guys," she beamed. 

As Castiel saw her out, Dean sat back down in front of the map, eyeing it skeptically.

"This map is too big. What is all this?" Dean managed to huff out, then decided to take two puffs on the inhaler. It was cool and soothing on his painful sore throat.

Castiel sighed, sitting next to him. "Have you never seen a non-propaganda map before?" Dean just shook his head. "Well, this is a map showing most of North America. The Fist falls roughly to the west of the Mississippi River, right here." Dean watched as Castiel's finger traced a line that ran from Chi-Town all the way down to New New Orleans. "In propaganda maps, they just show a small sliver to the North, East, and South listing the area as rebel territory. But the land over here to the east is now called the United Colonies. They split from The Fist in the second civil war, about two hundred years ago."

"And what's it like there?"

"It is... well it’s free, there's no slavery there. The economy is fairly strong, they do trade with The Fist from time to time, but the two countries are always at odds due to their incredibly different social structure. The leaders of The Fist know that the United Colonies funnel money into the rebels, hoping to see The Hand take control of the country. They won't outwardly show support - not with the nuclear weapon stores in Utah and Nevada, right here. Not until The Hand gains control of them."

"And to the North and South?"

"Canada is north, and they stay fairly neutral. They do offer asylum to any runaway slaves, and The Hand has several bases set up there. To the South is Mexico. They are a branch of The Fist and have a similar bracelet tagging system to the one here."

"I don't get it. Why don't people just escape over the borders more? If I'd known there was anywhere to go I would have taken Sammy and run years ago." Dean took a quick moment to marvel at how much better his voice felt already before focusing on Castiel again.

"I am guessing you've never been near a border then?" Dean shook his head. "Well, there is the Great Wall of Perdition, built by the Perdition family over a hundred years ago. It's thirty feet high and runs from the coast at New New Orleans, north till it hits Chi-Town and then goes west between the Fist and Canada till it hits the coast again. It's heavily guarded and difficult to get across without help. The Hand has a tunnel system that can get people into Canada but there are only a few drop points open."

"And we're at Capitol City, right? Where is that in relation to all of this?" He gestured at the map, fascinated to see how much bigger the world seemed now.

"Right here, the city used to be known as Denver before the war. Up here is Sioux Falls. That's roughly where your brother and Bobby are." 

Dean sighed at the thought of them so far away.

"We're right in the middle, huh? Figures, story of my life.” Dean leaned back, crossing his arms and frowning at the map. He wondered idly what it would be like to live in the United Colonies. 

Castiel stood and, leaning over the top of Dean, planted a kiss on the top of his head and gave his shoulder a squeeze. "Come on, let’s watch one of these movies Charlie gave us." 

Dean followed Castiel to the couch. They decided to put on  _ Lord of the Rings _ , and Dean curled up in Castiel's side. Every so often he could hear his father’s voice in his head calling him a  _ pansy _ for cuddling, telling him to  _ act like a man _ , but he ignored that voice, forcing it out of his head.

A few hours went by. As they got into the second movie, the light got progressively dimmer in the apartment, but neither wanted to get up to turn a light on. Dean looked over at Castiel, admiring the way the light cast shadows on his face and jaw. His eyes travelled down to his thin sleep pants and he couldn't help but wonder what his cock looked like. He mused that in all this time, he has never seen Castiel naked and that just didn't seem fair.

He decided action was required. He thought back to what the old Dean would have done. He thought to that boy, Aaron, he liked in his sophomore year. Looking at over at Castiel and taking a deep breath, he swung his body over him, sitting in his lap with both hands splayed across his chest. Castiel gasped in surprise but Dean quickly smothered the sounds with his lips. Castiel made a guttural groan, hands resting on Dean's hips, and Dean took a chance, grinding down his hips against Castiel's thighs. His growing erection brushed up against Castiel's and they both let out tiny moans of pleasure.

Dean wasn't sure what he wanted this to lead to, he only knew that he wanted to be closer to Castiel, that he needed him, his body needed him. The feeling seemed to be mutual, as Dean continued a slow grind in Castiel's lap and lips moved to his jaw and throat.

"I wanna see you," Dean said in a whisper by Castiel's ear, and he took the opportunity to give his ear a tiny nip. Suddenly firm hands grasped his butt and lifted him up off the couch. Instinctively, he wrapped his legs around Castiel's waist and continued kissing him as he was carried to the bedroom. 

Castiel set Dean down on his feet in front of the bed, stepping back away from him. Dean whined a little as Castiel pulled away. 

“What first?” Castiel asked with a shy smile. Dean licked his lips.

“Shirt,” Dean said, a bit hesitant. His heart was currently trying to beat out of his chest.

Castiel slowly removed his shirt, tossing it to the side. Dean drank in the sight of the exposed skin on Cas’ chest. Dean wanted to touch, but his feet felt glued to the spot.

“Next?” Castiel asked with a soft smile.

“P-p-pants,” Dean stuttered out and bit his lower lip, watching Castiel hook his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and slowly drag them down. He took a moment to admire the thick muscles of his thighs before he saw Castiel’s expectant face.

“Socks?” Dean said it almost as a question, obviously avoiding the last thin layer of clothing between himself and Castiel’s cock. Castiel stumbled a bit pulling off his socks, and Dean chuckled feeling a little tension ebb from his shoulders as Castiel rolled his eyes at him.

“Next?” Castiel’s voice dropped now and he was clenching and unclenching his fingers at his sides. He was truly one of the most beautiful things Dean had ever seen. He ached to touch him, to run his hands over the hard muscles of his shoulders, sharp bones of his hips, and soft curve of his waist. 

“Boxers, I mean- if you want,” Dean sucked in a breath as Castiel pulled his black boxer briefs over the curve of his hips and, setting his substantial erection free, pulled them all the way down, slowly stepping out of them. Castiel didn’t move, just stood with feet planted, waiting for Dean to make the next move.

Dean sucked in a deep breath as he began pulling his own tee shirt off and over his head and felt a shiver run through him, his skin prickling. He’d been naked for so long, clothing only just started feeling normal, and now when he wanted to be naked he felt… well he felt just a little scared. He clutched the tee shirt to his chest and suddenly Castiel was right in front of him, one hand cupping and lifting his face to meet his eyes.

“Are you okay? We can stop,” Castiel’s voice was warm and soothing and his touch spread a warmth through Dean that seemed to chase the nerves away.

Dean leaned in and kissed him lightly on the lips, “I’m good, Cas, really good.” He hooked his thumbs in his sweats and boxer briefs, pulling them off in one fluid motion, and stood back up only a few inches from Castiel. He spared a glance down to admire Castiel’s hard and leaking cock. He was thicker than Dean and just a bit shorter.

“W-where do you want me?” Castiel’s voice was a bit shaky and Dean smiled at the thought that the sight of his body could still do that to Castiel.

“On the bed,” Dean croaked out and chuckled a little as Castiel gave him a little wink that was really like a slow blink. Castiel linked their hands together and, walking backward, led Dean to the bed. Dean followed and draped himself over Castiel, loving the feel of warm skin against his own. Their legs slotted together, erections pressing against each other, hot and hard. Dean moaned at the feel of it, the pressure soothing the ache within him.

“Dean,” Castiel pleaded, throwing his head back, fists grabbing the sheets below him. Dean dragged his lips up the line of Castiel’s neck, tasting him and pressing kisses all the way up his jaw. His right hand fumbled blindly for the bedside table drawer but he managed to find a small bottle he’d found a few weeks before.

He fumbled a little but managed to slick up his right hand and moved to grasp his long fingers around both their lengths. He watched Castiel’s brilliant blue eyes roll up in his head, teeth pressing into his lower lip. Dean began stroking slowly, moving his hips in rhythm with his hand. He was so achingly hard, and his eyes were locked on Castiel’s face lost in pleasure. The small moans, and whines coming from the man below him only made him harder.

Suddenly, blue eyes locked onto his and the look there was full of such pure and overwhelming awe that it took his breath away. Castiel was so vulnerable and so strong and beautiful in that moment that Dean couldn’t look away if he tried. Dean could feel Castiel trembling, his release just on the edge. Dean felt like they were standing on the edge of an abyss, hands clasped and ready to jump into the dark together.

“Come for me,” Dean whispered, and he felt Castiel’s body go rigid as he cried out through his release, coming with a hard shudder. Dean’s own release followed Castiel, rocking through him, seizing up his muscles. He stifled a cry of pure bliss against Castiel’s shoulder. Dean all but collapsed on top of Castiel, pulling his messy hand free and resting his sweaty face on the other man’s chest. He listened to Castiel’s heavy breathing, letting his eyes slip closed and felt long arms wrap around him. He thought briefly that this is where he was meant to be all along.

**********

Castiel ran his fingers up and down the line of Dean’s back, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. He had seen Dean naked before, and even seen his body being used, but he had never seen Dean like that. He’d never seen Dean’s body tense with pleasure rather than fear, moan in want not terror, open up willingly and not by force. He was beautiful like this, relaxed and satiated, his hot breath warming Castiel’s skin. He’d been so ready for Dean to balk, to get scared, or to panic. Every time Dean looked wary Castiel, just looked into his eyes and the worry would drift away. He planned on proving himself worthy of that trust every second of every day if Dean let him.

“Sticky,” Dean huffed, eyes still closed and making no attempt to move.

“Mmhmm, I think showers are in order,” Castiel agreed but tightened his grip on Dean, planting another kiss to the top of his head. “Was that… was that alright?”

Dean lifted his head to look at him, eyes searching his in confusion. “It was great Cas… wasn’t it?”

“It was amazing, Dean, but it wasn’t too much for you?” He had to know if they’d pushed things too far, gone too fast. Dean smiled and leaned up to plant a soft kiss on his lips.

“No, it was perfect. You're perfect.” 

Castiel let himself sink into the bed a moment, relieved that he hadn’t crossed a line.

*

The next few weeks seemed to fly by to Castiel. Things had shifted between himself and Dean. Casual touches held a new heat and an electricity to them. Castiel would sometimes catch Dean staring at him, and one time he tossed Castiel a wink and just laughed at the shade of red he turned. 

Dean had lightened, and he wasn’t sure if it had been the visit with Sam or the new found level to their relationship. Castiel didn’t care what it was, this Dean was exactly who he had been waiting to meet. He still took things slow in the bedroom, sometimes just cuddling on the couch, or making out in the window seat. 

The first time Castiel went down on Dean had been the most memorable. The spray had worked miracles and Dean’s voice was back in full force. The cries of pleasure and repeated, “Cas, oh god, Cas!” was like music to his ears as he had swirled his tongue along Dean’s shaft. Dean twisted and writhed under Castiel and ended up coming with shout. They had learned that Dean did best when he was on top and they had thus far avoided Dean having any unpleasant flash backs.

Still, Castiel knew even if all they ever did was handjobs and blowjobs he would be more than content. Just being around Dean, seeing him healing and safe and happy was more than he had ever dreamed of. The fact that Dean apparently reciprocated his own feelings was just icing on the top.

Castiel had baked a peach bourbon pie for Dean’s birthday even though he stated repeatedly that he didn’t need to go to the trouble. It didn’t stop him from eating half of the pie in one sitting, however. It left him grumbling on the couch, muttering things like  _ worth it _ and  _ still so good _ , over and over while rubbing his aching stomach.

Castiel had learned a lot about Dean as well, such as that he loved old western movies, especially  _ Unforgiven _ . He also learned that Dean loved to sing to terrible old rock songs and usually just a little off key when he didn’t think Castiel was listening. He came to love all these things and even bought Dean an old record player he came across at a thrift shop.

The looming six month mark was almost upon them and Castiel wasn’t sure how to offer Dean any comfort. He honestly didn't know what Nick was going to do. With the growing pressure from the resistance Nick had become more and more agitated by the day. Luckily he hadn’t visited again, though his calls for Castiel were becoming more and more frequent, sometimes even waking him at all hours of the night to discuss distribution issues at a new plant. The war machine was in full swing and The Hand was making ever increasing strikes against the military bases and training farm facilities.

Early one February night as the days were starting to get longer, Dean stood in the kitchen cooking, swaying his hips to the record player. David Bowie was not Dean’s normal selection and Castiel couldn’t help but smile as he watched him spin and move about the kitchen, completely at ease. He was making some sort of macaroni and cheese that he insisted Castiel had to try.

“ _ We can be Heroes… just for one day _ ,” Dean sang as he stirred the pot and sprinkled in some salt. Castiel moved behind Dean who grinned over his shoulder and continued singing along as Castiel wrapped his arms around his waist, chin resting on his shoulder.

“ _ And the shame, was on the other side. Oh, we can beat them, forever and ever. Then we could be heroes just for one day _ .” Castiel moved to kiss the nape of his neck and saw the tell tale shiver it sent down the other man’s spine.

“Smells good.” Castiel closed his eyes, smelling the salty, cheesy aroma coming from the pot.

“You can wait,” Dean scolded, raising an eyebrow.

“You never do. I can hardly keep you from eating half of dinner before it's cooked,” Cas chuckled, trying to sneak the spoon out of Dean’s hands.

“Hey, none of that. Go back to the living room and stay out of the kitchen!” Dean shook the spoon at him. Castiel lunged forward quickly, licking the spoon and jumping out of the way before Dean could grab him. 

He sauntered back to the living room, resigned to wait, and flipped on the nightly news. It was more of the same propaganda he’d seen every night. Bobby had called that morning to warn him that things were moving fast and that Sam had cracked some code that Naomi had been asking for. Bobby wasn’t sure what it was but Naomi had gone dark after receiving the information. Castiel liked her less and less and Dean called her the frosty bitch whenever she video chatted in with Castiel for updates.

Castiel had been about to doze off when the TV crackled and the screen turned red. He got up, about to check the connection when suddenly Naomi was on the screen. She stood in front of a black banner with a white outline of The Hand’s emblem on it. Castiel stood up, grabbing the remote and turning up the volume.

“Dean!” he called and heard the footsteps quickly behind him.

Naomi’s voice was firm and confident. “Hello, fellow citizens. You may not know me, but my name is Naomi. I am here to let you know that the time of The Fist’s tyranny is coming to an end. The Hand has risen and we will bring freedom for all!” Static came on the screen and Castiel realized he was digging his nails into his thighs.

“Cas… what does that mean?” Dean’s voice was surprisingly steady and Castiel stood, eyes still fixed to the static on the screen. He thought he heard something booming off in the distance. He bolted forward, muting the TV and running to the front window, cracking it open.

“Cas? What’s going on? Talk to me!”

Castiel waved a hand to silence Dean and listened, staring off towards where he thought the booming noise was coming from. As he looked, lights began to flicker out across the city. The second lights went out in the apartment, the red emergency lights flickered on and the dull whine of the warning sirens began. Castiel turned to see Dean at his shoulder looking as scared as Castiel felt.

“It’s time, Dean.” Castiel kept his voice as calm as he could.

“Time for what?”

“Time to run.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Guys,  
> Here is the next chapter, I know its a little shorter than normal but it covers a lot.   
> <3

Dean watched as Castiel flew past him, a fierce and determined look on his face. Dean felt like his feet were weighted to the floor as he stared after his avenging angel.

“Dean!” Cas called from the bedroom. Dean managed to pick up his feet and jog after him. Castiel was on his knees, pulling bags out from under the bed. He pulled out a pistol, checking the magazine and that the safety was on.

“Get changed into traveling clothes fast, okay? We need to get out of the city before the real fighting begins. The danger in the city will be The Fist, but hopefully if we can get to the north side we should find rebel forces.”

“How did you not know about this? Didn’t anyone in The Hand tell you? We need to call Bobby and Sam!” Dean’s mind was racing now with the reality that this was really happening.

“They can’t be reached - my cell service is out. There’s a radio in my car but we are too far for it too reach their frequency. Get ready, we need to leave here in five minutes, okay?”

Dean took a long deep breath and shoved down his fear. Firming his resolve, he began changing into a pair of jeans and boots and throwing on a few extra layers for the cold. Castiel was pulling on his tan coat and filling and tossing a bag over his shoulder.

It was so dark in the room, and only red light filtered in from the living room to guide them in getting ready. Castiel handed him a flashlight and took one himself, then handed Dean his bag and a pistol. Dean hadn’t held a gun in years but his father had taught him how to shoot when he turned twelve, and he figured it would be like riding a bike.

Once fully equipped, Castiel did a once over before turning to Dean and locking eyes with him. He stared at him for a moment, eyes searching like there was something he wanted to say. He placed a hand on Dean’s cheek, grazing over his bottom lip with his thumb. His hand dropped fast and he gave Dean’s shoulder a squeeze, then moved to the front door. Dean stayed hot on Castiel’s heels, his anxiety bubbling under the surface. He hadn’t set foot outside the apartment for nearly six months.

Castiel’s hand hesitated on the door knob, back turned to him. “Dean… I want you to stay one step behind me. If it gets dark just grab my coat so I don’t lose you, okay? Just remember to head North, there is a rebel base there and they will take in refugees.”

“You’re talking like we won’t be going there together.”

“We are, Dean, I promise. We will get out of this together, you and me.” Castiel turned then, giving him a firm smile. Dean nodded his consent and took a deep breath, trying to resist grabbing Castiel’s coat already.

They slid out into the hallway where the sound of the sirens got louder and the red emergency lights were flickering. Dean wanted to make a joke about it being like the beginning of a bad horror movie but figured it wasn’t the time. He did half expect for zombie dogs to jump out and try to eat them. Castiel moved with grace and confidence, heading for the stairwell. His sure steps gave Dean confidence and he felt braver by the second.

Dean moved down the stairwell with Castiel and could hear the footsteps of people farther down but couldn’t see them yet. Most just sounded scared, asking each other what was going on. The building then gave a shudder and groan, dust falling from the cracked ceiling.

“I think they are bombing the city. That wasn’t far off,” Castiel yelled by Dean’s ear to be heard over the sirens. They hurried faster down the stairs now, Castiel’s coat billowing out behind him almost like wings. There was a gathering of scared people clustered at the bottom of the stairs. Dean saw most of them were wearing gold bands and few silver. He was glad his coat covered his own copper band. Castiel pushed through the crowd, who seemed lost as to whether they wanted to venture outside. Dean did grab a fistful of the tan coat so as not to lose him and they made it out into the parking lot.

Dean nearly ran into Castiel when he stopped abruptly, pushing Dean against the cement wall and pressing a finger to his lip. Two woman in all black carrying assault rifles were walking down the aisle, looking between each car. One was a white woman who had short, greying hair and big, round brown eyes, while the other was a black woman with her hair braided down her back.

Castiel’s hand eased off his chest when he saw them, and he walked out in front of them, hands held up. “Jody? Damn, am I glad to see you.”

The shorter woman smiled and jogged over to him. “Cas! We came looking for you. We have a few evacuation vans to try and get people out of the city.” Another loud booming sound hit and more dust rained down on them.

“We were gonna take my car but if you have a safer way out... This is Dean, by the way. Dean, this is Sheriff Jody Mills, and I don’t know her friend here.”

“Billie James, but can we save the introductions for when there isn’t a war on?” The taller woman cocked an eyebrow at them, glancing around.

“I agree, let’s get the hell out of here,” Dean nodded and the four of them headed toward a back exit door. Both these woman seemed formidable and Dean thought if the rest of the resistance looked like them, they might stand a fighting chance.

They moved into a dark alleyway. The little bit of twilight that had been left was now cast into darkness. Gunfire could be heard off in the distance and he looked down as he felt Castiel’s fingers lace with his own. He looked over into shining eyes and suddenly, all the words they’d never said were held there between them. He wondered how he hadn’t realized it before, that this man loved him, really truly loved him. Castiel had moved heaven and earth to save him from hell. Beyond that he realized... he loved him too. All he could think now was that if the goddamn siren would stop blaring for a second, maybe he could tell him that.

“Be quiet and stay out of sight. We need to grab one other person,” Jody glared at them both and her and Billie disappeared around the corner, leaving them pressed against the brick wall, hidden slightly behind a dumpster. 

Dean gave Castiel’s hand a squeeze. “Cas, I uh, I never said thank you.”

Castiel tilted his head at him. “Thank you? Dean, you don’t owe me anything.”

“I-” Dean’s words were cut off as there was a loud bang of the side door they’d just come from slamming open. Before Dean could blink, he was knocked to the ground, hitting the cold cement with a hard smack. He looked up to see Castiel grappling with someone.

“Traitor!” he heard the other man yell, and the voice cut right through him. He knew that voice. Gordon’s hands were wrapped around Castiel’s throat, slamming him against the wall. “I told Nick you were not to be trusted,” Gordon growled, and Castiel kicked and tried to pull his arms free.

Dean scrambled to get up, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over him he stumbled back to the ground. He reached behind him and felt something cool and wet on the back of his head. Pulling his fingers forward, he saw the blood. Two other men followed behind Gordon, guns in hand, their eyes set on Dean.

Dean pushed up and managed to get to his feet this time, before the two men descended on him. He couldn’t get to his gun before they were on him, fists flying. Dean got in a few hits, hearing a satisfying grunt as he landed a shot to the kidney, and a cracking sound as he hit the other in the jaw. It had been years since he had been able to fight back and he felt the adrenaline flowing through him, pushing him on.

The two men managed to land a solid blow to his head and strong hands painfully grabbed his arms, nearly pulling him off the ground.

“What do you want us to do with this one, boss?”

Gordon looked over at Dean, both hands still firmly in place on Castiel’s throat, though it seemed like he was letting the man get some air in. Castiel looked furious as he struggled to break free.

“Keep him alive. Nick will want his little bitch back,” Gordon leered at Dean making his stomach feel like it was full of lead. A car pulled up at the end of the alley behind Gordon. “Seems like our ride is here. You two better come quiet, I have no issue delivering your corpses if need be.”

Gordon was deadly serious and Dean shot a look to Castiel. The piercing blue eyes locked with his and he knew then just how really and truly fucked they were. A gunshot rang out in the alley and Dean was yanked to the ground by the falling body of his captor. He fought and scrambled to pull free as more shots rang out. Billie and Jody were there, having shot both men who had been holding Dean.

“Stop right there or I’ll shoot!” Jody yelled, gun aimed down the alleyway. Gordon was now holding Castiel up as a shield, a knife pressed firmly to his throat as he dragged him to the waiting car.

“Cas!” Dean yelled, scrambling up and staggering a moment.

“Dean, run!” Cas yelled back and in the blink of an eye the man he loved was gone, dragged into the back seat of the car and speeding off into the night.

Dean bolted after him, screaming, “Cas! Bring him back, you bastard!” His vision blurred with tears till he stumbled and fell to his knees in a icy puddle. His chest tight and gasping for breath, he felt like his heart had been ripped from his chest. Hands were on his shoulders now, pulling him to his feet, but he staggered and almost fell. Strong arms held him up, and he blinked up into the face of a large, broad-shouldered man with a ruddy brown beard. “Easy there, brother, we gotta go.”

Whoever the man was, he began dragging Dean back down the opposite way from where Cas had disappeared. He heard Jody’s voice talking to him, saying something about getting out of there, and they would find Castiel again. Nothing registered, all he could see was that last look on Castiel’s face, the courage masking the fear. He felt numb and void like someone had drained the life right out of him.

“Benny, he took a hit to the head we need to get him to medic.”

“I know. I think he’s going into shock. Hang in there, okay pal? Help is coming.”

As he slipped into unconsciousness the same words echoed in his head,  _ I lost him, I lost him… I lost him… _

*********************

Castiel struggled and kicked but Gordon’s grip was firm and the knife was still pressed hard under his chin. If he could just get to his gun he might be able to break free and take out Gordon and the driver. It was then he felt the hand slide down his back and pull the pistol from his waistband.

“Owning an illegal gun, traitor? You know that’s enough to earn yourself a copper band. Don’t worry, I doubt you’ll live long enough for that.” 

The blow to the back of his head came fast and hard, sending a starburst of pain behind his eyes before the blackness.

He woke to a pounding in his head and a shooting pain in his shoulders. He blinked his eyes open to see the ceiling of a car. He felt jostling as the car sped down a bumpy road. His hands were duct taped behind his back and trapped under him. After further wiggling, he felt his feet were duct taped together as well.

“Waking up, sunshine? We’re almost there.” Gordon gave him a bright white smile and winked. Castiel tried to yell at the man and realized the bastard had put duct tape over his mouth. “You know Nick sent me to rescue you, his favorite little cousin.” Gordon barked a laugh. “When I told him I came to pull your ass out of the city and I found you running with a bunch of rebels, well… he is very anxious to see you.”

Castiel tried to hide the shiver of fear that ran through him. He had always known this could happen. It had been the risk he had taken from the get go. Still, he had come so close to freedom, so close to being with Dean. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the look of sheer terror on Dean’s face as he left him there in the alleyway. He’d promised to protect Dean and he’d failed him. He could only hope that Jody and Billie would get him safely out of the city and to his brother. He knew Dean was a survivor and knew if he could just get out he’d be okay. The thought that he might never see him again hurt like a physical ache in his chest.

He didn’t have long with his thoughts before the car was coming to a stop and Gordon was stepping out. A guard reached in and pulled Castiel out of the car, dragging him by his upper arm and pulling hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. He choked them back thinking he need to put on as strong a face as possible when he saw Nick. At this point Castiel knew his best hope was a quick death though that likely wasn’t in the cards.

He didn’t recognize the house they were at. It was surrounded with a buzz of people and soldiers yelling and moving artillery around. He was pulled up the steps and shocked to see Tessa pulling open the door for Gordon. She looked pale and had a black eye that was purpling and recent. She looked at Castiel and was barely able to stifle a gasp as she recognized him.

“Move, slave.” Gordon pushed her to the side and grabbed Castiel’s other arm as the two pulled him into what seemed to be an office and tossed him on the carpet so that he fell to his knees. He grunted in pain and winced as the tape pulled painfully at his skin.

“Leave us!” A familiar, cold voice barked. He suddenly felt like all the air had been pulled from the room and struggled to get oxygen in through his nose. Panic settling in on him, he slowly raised his eyes to see Nick moving from behind a desk to stand in front of him. The look on his face was so venomous he half expected his eyes to turn to slits.

“Cousin, so nice of you to join us. Gordon has filled me in on your escapades tonight.” Nick reached forward and yanked off the duct tape from his lips and Castiel smothered a cry of pain. “So, are you going to offer me any arguments? Plead your innocence?”

Castiel looked up at Nick but he didn’t see the point in hiding it anymore. “No, I think he probably covered it.” Castiel smirked at him with a confidence he did not feel. The blow came fast and hard, hitting him with a smack across the face and knocking him to his side.

“You traitorous little insect!” 

That’s when the kicking started. Castiel curled himself into a ball to try and shelter his vital organs from as much of the beating as he could. “Ungrateful... Backstabbing… Liar…” Nick punctuated each accusation with a kick.

Nick finally stopped, stepping back as Castiel struggled to pull in air. His body was in such a myriad of pain he couldn’t begin to focus on any one point, or assess how bad it was.

“Guess I- won’t be invited to dinner then, huh?” Castiel managed a snarky glare and received another kick in response.

Nick grabbed hold of the front of his shirt, bending down and pulling him in so their faces were a mere inches apart. “I trusted you, I let you in my home, I gave you a job, I gave you my favorite bitch and this is how you repay me?”

“Just kill me and get it over with, already,” Castiel spat at him.

“Never, little cousin. You’re family.” He flashed Castiel a dark smile. “Plus, I want my bitch back, and you're just the bait I need. But don’t worry, I won’t let you go to waste in the meantime. You’re gonna tell me where every rebel base is and what their plans are.”

“I’ll never talk, Nick, and you will never get your hands on Dean again, you sick, twisted fuck!”

Nick broke out into a terrifying laugh, dropping Castiel back to the ground. “You should know by now, Castiel, that I get what I want, and what I want is that sweet ass of my bitch back under my cock, and I want you here to witness it when I take what’s mine. I am going to crush the rebels, even if I have to do it one by one myself. If you thought he knew pain before, neither of you had any idea.”

Nick moved back behind the desk before hitting a call button. Gordon stepped into the room, a look of triumph on his face as he looked down at what Castiel was sure was a bloody beaten mess.

“Take him to a cell in the basement. I want locations and I want them now.”

“By any means necessary?” Gordon asked with a malicious grin.

Nick returned the smile but was looking down at Castiel now. “By any means necessary.” 

Castiel cringed as he felt himself being dragged to his fate. He only prayed he’d be strong enough not to break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me guys I know it was rough so sending you all hugs. I will try and get another chapter written as fast as I can but disclaimer I am heading into a very busy work week, moving my horse to a new barn, and moving into a new apartment in the next few weeks. But I will get these next few chapters written as soon as I can. <3 <3 <3


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks! I got a chapter done during all the life madness! and yes its been utter madness and its only beginning. I did a quick look and we aren't that far from the end guys so hang in there.  
> <3  
> CB

Sam paced the tiny room back and forth in the bunker. S _ tay here,  _ they said,  _ just wait,  _ they said,  _ we will let you know as soon as we hear. _ Well Sam was fucking done waiting. It was an eight-hour drive from the capital to the base and it had been over twelve hours since he'd heard from them.

He marched out of the small bunk room and headed down the hall to the war room, where he heard more raised voices.

"I won't tell you to stand down again, Singer. This is my rebellion and my call."

"New flash - this is ALL of our rebellion. You're not the only one with your ass on the line here, and this doesn't sit right with me." Bobby's voice echoed down the hall.

"I'm with Singer on this one. Those are innocent people, we can't just bomb them," an unfamiliar female voice chimed in with Naomi and Bobby's bickering. Before Sam reached them a flurry of red hair came flying around the corner and nearly crashed into him.

"Sam!" Charlie exclaimed, smiling at him. "Just the guy I was looking for! Your brother is here. They brought him to the sick bay - come on." 

His heart seemed to stop for a second before restarting to the unsaid word,  _ Dean. _

He'd only met the redhead the night before but he instantly liked her. Charlie's reputation did preceded her as one of the most skilled code breakers in the organization. She swept through the halls and Sam trailed after her, ducking and dodging people as they went. They finally reached the sick bay and his eyes darted about until they landed on his brother.

He was shocked he didn't trip over his long gangly legs as he sprinted over to his brother and wrapped his arms around him. Dean was alive! The ever-present terror since he and Bobby had fled for the home base, not knowing if Dean and Cas had made it out, had turned his stomach for hours.

"Dean! Oh, thank god you’re okay." He leaned back from his brother and looked him over, doing a quick appraisal. There were bandages on his palms and a bruise on his face, some dried blood in his hair, but nothing seemed life-threatening. It was then he noticed Dean wasn't meeting his eyes and the small tremor to his hands that were clasped in his lap.

"Are you okay, De? What happened?" He lowered his voice and glanced over to see a suddenly very morose looking Charlie talking to some tall, bearded man.  _ Where is Cas? _

Dean only shook his head like he couldn't answer.

"Dean... is it Cas?" He dreaded the answer but the silent sob that wracked Dean's body was answer enough. "Oh fuck."

Sam looked around at the people and put an arm on Dean's shoulder guiding him off the bed, "Come on, follow me."

He led Dean back down the hall, feeling the painful grip of his brother's hand as it dug into his upper arm. He could feel the built up tension Dean was barely holding in. He moved his feet a little faster, ushering Dean into his bunk room. He shut the door and helped Dean over to the empty bed.

As soon as they were alone together, Dean just broke down into tears. This was different than anything Sam had seen before. Dean didn't cry. This wasn't like that night he'd woken up from the nightmare either, this was gut-wrenching heartache. Sam sat next to Dean and silently pulled him into his arms. Dean resisted for a half second before folding into him and wrapping his arms around Sam's neck.

A litany of agonized words began spilling out of his mouth, "They took him Sammy, he's gone, they've got him and their gonna hurt him and he's gone!"

Sam didn't say anything, just held him and waited till the tears seemed to stop and Dean slumped against him in exhaustion. He moved Dean down and tucked him into the covers before moving to sit vigil on his own bed. There was a soft knock on the door and Bobby poked his head in. He looked tired, but he gestured for Sam to follow him.

He moved into the hall but stayed close to the door in case Dean woke up.

Bobby kept his voice low, "How’s he holding up?"

"Not great, Bobby. Sounds like they lost Cas." Bobby frowned, adjusting his ball cap on his head.

"Yeah, that's what Jody said. Naomi and her been fightin’ ever since she got back. Those two are like oil and water. Just give Dean some time to adjust okay, he's gonna need you right now."

"What do we do about Cas, though? Can we go find him?"

Bobby raised his eyebrows at Sam a little like he thought he was slow, "No one is going to be mounting a rescue mission for Cas right now, Sam."

"What the hell? Why not?" Sam started raising his voice and Bobby shushed him.

"’Cause first of all, there’s a damn war on right now, if you haven't noticed. Second, he's likely in the most dangerous place in this country in the clutches of the Perditions, and third, while a lot of us care about Cas, the important people around here don't."

"How can they not care after all Castiel has done for the rebellion?"

"He's a goldband, son, and he was a spy. Naomi and them always knew it was likely he would be caught, they just hoped the risk of what he might give up wouldn't outweigh the information he got them. Castiel doesn't know a lot about the Hand's plans. I doubt they even warned him of the attack because they wouldn't want him to give up intel if captured."

Sam was speechless for a moment. How could they be so cold? "That’s still really shitty. What good is it to fight a rebellion if you end up no better than the people you're trying to stop?"

"I know, Sam, it's utter horse shit," Bobby grunted, staring over his shoulder a moment as if he could see the man sleeping inside. "I promise you and your brother I'll do whatever I can to get Castiel out, but I don't want to give you and especially not him false hope. Go on back and sit with him now, he's gonna need his brother."

Bobby turned to go but Sam caught his sleeve. "Thanks, Bobby." The old man nodded and Sam slipped back into the bunk room. He put on a small reading light, knowing Dean didn't like the dark, and settled down to wait.

Sam sat watching Dean, and thought back to all the nights Dean had sat watching him. Whenever Sam had been sick his big brother had always been there, to make him soup and crack a joke so he'd laugh. He knew sometimes Dean stayed up and watched him sleep - he caught Dean at it once and Dean had just said he wanted to be sure his cough didn't get too bad. Sam hadn't had a mother but he that didn't mean he didn't have someone who watched over him.   
  
He thought about his father then, and wondered where he'd gone. Sam had kept some tabs on the man, mostly to make sure he didn't show up unexpectedly. He'd gone completely off-grid though, six months back. Left his job, left Kansas and just up and gone into the wind.  _ Good riddance _ , Sam thought bitterly. Not for the first time he also felt a wave of gratitude that they had Bobby to help pick up the pieces.   
  
After a few hours his stomach gave a growl. Dean still seemed to be out cold, having not moved since Sam lay him down. He snuck out of the room and nearly ran into Charlie as he was heading toward the kitchens.   
  
"Hey, I'm sorry to hear about Cas. I know you guys were close," Sam offered her a friendly smile and she nodded solemnly.   
  
"I'll find him. I won't stop looking." Charlie gave him a look that dared him to contradict her. "You wanna come with me, though? I was gonna try and find Naomi since I heard she had intel from the front line. Maybe she heard about Cas."   
  
Sam nodded fervently and followed the redhead down the narrow passageways. The voices reached Sam and Charlie and she put up a hand to his chest to halt him and raised a finger to her lips for him to be silent. He could hear Naomi and Ruby, along with another male voice Sam wasn't familiar with.   
  
"The majority of the Capital has been taken, Ma'am, but unfortunately we have been unable to breach any of the Perdition strongholds."   
  
"Thank you, Bart. I didn't expect to win this war in a day. I want constant surveillance on both Perdition brothers. If they so much as sneeze I want to know about it."   
  
"Yes, Ma'am." There was a sound of retreating feet that thankfully must have left through another door.   
  
"I have the plans you asked me to draw up and the temporary detention center is almost ready."   
  
"Thank you, Ruby. How many filthy gold bands do you think we can hold there?"   
  
"I'd say five thousand, but Bart's team is working to gain control of three different farm facilities and those have much higher capacities."  Sam felt his stomach sink at Ruby's words.   
  
"Good. I know it may be a bit unpopular at first. I intend to make every gold band wearing piece of trash rue the day they underestimated their betters. They will think twice about how they treated their slaves when I am through with them. I still expect you too keep this just in our circle. I know the idea of enslaving the gold band population might be a bitter pill for some to swallow, but it's for the good of the country."   
  
"Yes Ma'am, I will keep you posted."   
  
Charlie was tugging on his sleeve and pulling him back the way they came. He reluctantly followed her as they hurried to get away without being seen.   
  
"Holy crap!"  she exclaimed once out of earshot.   
  
"We need to go to Bobby, like right now," Sam panted, catching his breath. He heard a low whine coming from his bunk room and froze. "Can you go without me? I need to check on Dean."   
  
"Yeah, yeah, go on. I'll let the important people know what we heard." Charlie took off down the hall as Sam, still hungry, having failed his initial mission, slid back into the room.   
  
Dean's eyes were scrunched tight and he tossed and turned, gripping the blanket. Sam sat on the bed next to him and put a hand on Dean's knee to try and settle him. Dean still looked caught up in some nightmare. Sam tried talking to him to pull him out of the nightmare, but it didn't seem to help. Not sure what to do, he decided to take a page from Dean's own book.   
  
He softly began singing, " _ Hey Jude, don't make it bad... Take a sad song and make it better ... remember to let her into your heart, then you can start, to make it better _ ...." He watched as Dean stopped kicking under the sheets and his face began to relax a little. " _ And anytime you feel the pain, hey Jude, refrain. Don't carry the world upon your shoulders _ ."   
  
Dean used to sing it to him when he had bad dreams or sometimes to drown out their fathers drunken tirades. He knew that their mother had sang the song to Dean when he was little. He didn't know where the song came from, he thought it was likely very old. It did the trick, even though Sam had a terrible singing voice. Dean had slipped back into a more peaceful sleep. 

Everything was just so fucked up right now and but he had to believe so long and Dean and him were together they could make it through to the other side of all this.

******************

Dean wasn't sure how many weeks had passed. He was pretty sure it was weeks now, though. He'd raged the first few days, yelling and cursing up a storm at anyone and everyone that they needed to get off their asses and go rescue Cas. It was hopeless though, no one knew where Cas was and even if they did they couldn't get to him.   
  
He woke most mornings reaching a hand out under the covers for a man that wasn't there, for blue eyes that had left him. That is usually when he simply close his eyes and fall back asleep. usually into the same nightmare. He no longer dreamed of his time with Nick, he dreamed of that night when Castiel was ripped from him, dragged out of his life in a matter of seconds. He took the bad dreams though - Sammy didn't understand, couldn't understand that at least there he could see him, even if it hurt.   
  
He knew he should try more, for Sam if no one else, but Dean just couldn't see the point to it all. He had no desire to eat or see anyone. Why couldn't Sam and Bobby and Charlie all just leave him the hell alone? Hadn't he been through enough? Sam and Bobby tried to talk to him about the rebellion, they weren't happy with what Naomi was doing and wanted to try and overthrow her. Still, unless it had something to do with Cas he couldn't be bothered.    
  
He was lying on his bed, fully dressed only because Sam threatened to burn the sweats off of him if he didn't put on a clean tee shirt and jeans. Sam was on his own bed reading, darting worried mother hen glances at him every thirty seconds, when there was a loud knock at the door. It swung open and Benny was there scanning the room, taking them in.   
  
"Alright guys, you two’re comin’ with me," Benny nodded his head toward the hallway.   
  
Dean only scoffed, crossing his arms and turning his back to the man.   
  
"What for?" Sam asked skeptically.   
  
"Trainin’. If you two wanna fight this war you gotta be prepared. Let's get a move on."   
  
"I'm not fighting your damn war. You can all go to hell," Dean grunted, just wanting to be left alone.   
  
"I'm sure Castiel will be glad to hear you don't give a crap about him or what he fought for."   
  
Dean could feel the rage well up in his chest, an overwhelming anger he hadn't felt in years. He launched up off the bed and flew at Benny, pulling back his fist and aiming a punch for his jaw, only to have it deflected by the burly man. He snarled and felt Sam's broad hands on his shoulders pulling him back.   
  
"Don't you fucking dare tell me I don't care about Cas! I am the only one who cares about him!" Dean was panting and felt the heat flush his cheeks.   
  
"Dean, take it easy, okay?" Sam was struggling to hold Dean still.   
  
"You listen to me, brother, you ain't the only one who cares about Castiel Novak. He was a good friend a’ mine and I have every intention of seeing him safely home. To do that I am gonna need help, I am gonna need brothers in arms when the time comes. Call me crazy but I thought you might wanna be a part of that." Benny's smooth southern drawl was never raised or angry, just a blunt statement of fact. 

Dean stared at the man a moment, trying to think. 

Benny continued, "If I was wrong, and you'd rather just lay here and sulk then-"   
  
"I'll do it," Dean interrupted as Benny was turning to leave. "But I'm doing this for Cas. I don't give a shit about the Hand's crusade, you hear me?" 

Benny nodded and Sam released Dean’s shoulders. They followed Benny out of the room and were led outside a back doorway.    
  
Dean blinked at the bright sunlight, feeling it sting his eyes. He wondered how long it had been since he'd seen the sun. The open sky and grass under his feet did give him a sense of calm though, and Sam stayed glued to his side, obviously planning to play follow the leader with Dean.   
  
Benny led them to a line up of stumps all that had an assortment of guns and knives on them. Sand bags were hung off in the distance as obvious targets. A small guy with a mullet was a few stumps down and he waved before firing a handgun at his target.   
  
Benny showed them the different weapons at their disposal. Two different pistols, a machine gun, and a few throwing knives. Dean knew how to shoot a shotgun - Bobby had taught him one summer and his dad had given him a few lessons with a pistol when he was thirteen. He went for the handgun, feeling the weight of it. He checked the magazine and made sure the safety was on and Benny gave him the go ahead.   
  
His first few shots were wide right and a little high. He frowned and adjusted, hitting the sandbag this time, though only on the outer edge. Sam moved down and Benny began instructing him while Dean continued to run through two more magazines of bullets. He felt better with the weight of the gun in his hand. He imagined aiming the gun at Nick's head and blowing the bastard away. It was too good a death for the man.   
  
They spent the afternoon shooting, which Dean excelled at after warming up, and throwing knives which was apparently a skill Sam had that Dean needed to work on. He felt sore all over but surprisingly good when they finished and headed back in. 

The next few weeks passed the same, and Dean spent every minute sparring with Benny, shooting at targets and training. It felt good to be doing something, like he might actually be able to help Cas, wherever he was.   
  
He lay in bed one night staring at the ceiling, after Sam had passed out softly snoring in the bed across from him. He thought about Cas. He thought about his long fingers and how they felt cupping his chin. He thought about the crinkle around his eyes when he smiled and the sound of the low humming noise he made while cooking. He missed him so bad he physically ached. He didn't even know if Cas was alive or dead, and if he was alive what kind of shape he was in. If Dean got him back, would he be the same man? Would he still want Dean? Would he still smile that goofy grin at him? He had to believe if Cas could bring him back from the dead than he could do the same, would do the same, no matter what it took.   
  
"I'm coming for you, Cas. Just hold on," he whispered to no one, before turning over to sleep.

********************

It was always dark, and always cold. It wasn't quite cold enough to kill him, but he never could get warm either. He would have kept track of time by marking the wall somehow only he couldn't tell night from day down here. Castiel licked his dry lips and dreamed of water. He wasn't sure what he hated more the time left alone in the dark or the time spent with Gordon. He had thought many times during his interrogation that Gordon had gone too far and that he wasn't going to survive it.  He learned quickly how much blood he could lose without dying.

They'd given up on getting useful information out of him weeks ago (at least, he thought it was weeks). He hadn't known anything useful, not that he would have told them. Naomi purposefully kept him in the dark because of this exact situation. He was supposed to keep a cyanide pill on him - it was stitched into a hidden pocket in his trench coat. Gordon had torn the coat off of him before he could even consider the option. He wasn't sure if he would have gone through with it or not. One word kept that thought at bay: Dean.

His mouth still burned with bile from the last time he'd thrown up. He hadn't dared looked at the damage done to his ankles for fear of passing out again. There was an alarming numbness replacing the searing pain and he was pretty sure the broken bones and swelling were inhibiting proper blood flow. He'd learned what it was like to be naked all the time as well, being stripped of all his clothes. He'd taken clothing for granted and had a newfound appreciation for what Dean must have gone through. He was mentally preparing himself for the impending rape and abuse, but it seemed that was the only torture that Nick had deemed off-limits. 

He hadn't seen Nick since they first brought him in. Gordon would come every few hours, ask him the same line of questions, then take out his rage on Castiel's ever-weakening body. Tessa was the only other person he saw, coming by on occasion to bring him water or small amounts of food.

He wondered were Anna was but when he asked Tessa, she just shook her head and scurried away. He wondered if he would see Dean again. Would he even recognize him? The only thing he was thankful for was that Dean wasn't here. His biggest fear was that Nick would come striding down the stairs dragging Dean behind him. Castiel couldn't imagine anything more terrifying. He had to hope that Jody kept him safe, got him to Sam and Bobby. He imagined him reunited with his brother, listening to music, reading a favorite book, sitting out in the sun. It brought him a rare kind of peace in his moments alone in the dark to picture Dean safe and happy.

The door at the top of the stairs banged open and Castiel blinked at the sudden flooding of light into the basement where they kept him. He squinted up to see a larger figure than Gordon striding down the stairs. It took him a moment to recognize who it was since one eye was close to swollen shut, but he drew in a quick steadying breath at the sight of the man.

"Hello, Cousin. I trust you are enjoying my accommodations?"

Castiel glowered at Nick and refused to answer, his dry throat would make it difficult to speak anyway.

"Ooo nasty looking legs there, Cassie. Gordon really went to town with that mallet, huh? I mean, not that you were going to run on me, but that's out of the question for good now, isn't it?" Nick chuckled to himself. “I've got an inside source that tells me my little pet is at home base of your little rebellion." Nick made a tisking sound, pulling out a picture from his back pocket. Castiel felt his stomach drop and he bit his lip to try and hide his growing fear.

"You wanna see our boy?" Nick smiled at him and turned the picture over. He couldn't help himself, he really couldn't. He peered forward to look at the image. Dean and Sam were standing in a hallway talking to each other, arms crossed. Dean's brows were furrowed in concentration while Sam seemed to be talking. Whoever took the picture had been close by to them.

"Still pretty, isn't he? Don't you worry, Cassie, we'll get him back in no time, and I will crush this little rebellion. Then you and me and pretty here will have all the time in the world to enjoy ourselves."

"You are never touching him a-again," Castiel growled and went into a coughing fit.

Nick only smiled. "Very intimidating, little cuz, I am shaking in my boots." With a laugh Nick retreated up the stairs, leaving Castiel alone with one thought running through his head... _ please let him stay safe, please, please, please, keep him safe. _


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Friends,  
> I got another chapter written, Yay! Also almost done moving in so double Yay! Okay so this chapter is a little shorter than normal for me but I cover a lot and the next one will likely be a long one. Hang in there folks we are so close to Karma finally kicking in.  
> Love you guys thanks for all the support <3

To say Dean was restless was an understatement. The war waged on and he continued to excel at his training with Benny. He threw every ounce of himself into it, till he quickly became one of the most skilled members of the swat team Benny was leading. He went on his first raid after only four weeks. 

Sam had made a major bitch face about being called too young to go. Dean understood better than most that he and Sam were older than their years. He tried to make a case for it, but Sheriff Mills had put her foot down. The raid had gone off without a hitch, and they managed to free nearly four hundred slaves from a Fist-run farm facility.

All his years of fending for him and Sam, fighting for every scrap of food and bit of shelter, had paid off. He was in his element like this and he felt the heavy shackles of being Nick's pretty pet slowly start to lift from his shoulders.

By the second raid, Sam had finally gotten the go-ahead to join the team and Dean had been glowing with pride at how well he'd done. Sam was bright and assertive and had a natural instinct that you just couldn't teach people. Seeing his brother like that, saving people and fighting alongside him, made what he went through feel almost worth it.

As the weeks ticked by and he lay in bed every night, exhausted, he closed his eyes and thought of Cas. Sometimes he even talked to Cas in his mind, prayed to him almost, telling him all about his day and how much he missed him and that he was still coming for him. It became a bit of a ritual. There had been no word on Nick’s whereabouts—he owned several homes and they weren’t sure which one he was bunkered down at. Dean had to believe that Nick would be keeping Cas alive. The man loved inflicting pain too much to give Cas a quick death.

Dean was sitting at the end of his bed cleaning his favorite pistol before training when there was a knock at the door. He cleared his throat, still finding himself more comfortable with weapons than talking, and said, “Come in.”

The door creaked open and a small-framed woman stepped into the room. She had dark golden-blonde hair and bright eyes. She gave Dean a small, crooked smile that felt strangely familiar to him. 

“Hello. Are you Dean? Dean Winchester?” Her voice was a little rough but warm and endearing. She looked to be in her late forties, maybe.

“That’s me. What can I do for you?”

“My name is Ellen Harvelle. I, uh, wondered if I could talk to you for a minute?”

Dean nodded and held back his surprise when she sat right down next to him instead of on the chair in the middle of the room. She sat there a minute, seemingly lost in thought.

“Uh, Ma’am, are you okay?”

She shook herself and gave him a small smile. “Yes, sorry, I just, you’re the first person who… well, I heard that… you were owned by Nick Perdition, that right?”

Dean felt his muscles tense at the name, the all too familiar chill ran down his spine. He took a deep, calming breath before replying, “Yes Ma’am, I was.”

“My daughter… her name was Jo, Joanna Beth Harvelle. I believe Perdition may have owned her contract as well. I just wanted to know if you’ve seen her or knew if she might still be there?”

Dean’s heart sank to his stomach like stone. He fought down the urge to vomit as flashes of blood and tears, the sounds of whimpers and cries came flooding back to him. The pale blue color her skin took in the moonlight still haunted his dreams, she looked like a ghost even before she died.

He felt a warm hand wrap around his own and looked down to see it fiercely gripping a piece of his gun, to the point where a small trickle of blood was dripping from his palm. He took in a long, gasping breath, pulling the hand away from her and clutching it to his chest, trying to get a hold of his breathing. He had to stay calm, he had to do this, he had to do this for Jo. 

The woman’s eyes were shining with unshed tears, his reaction obviously giving himself away. This was Jo’s mom, sweet, fierce, funny Jo who tried to sneak him a sandwich, who’d dared to risk an escape even knowing the cost. He looked into the woman’s eyes and saw the same strength there.

“I knew your daughter, Ma’am. She was one of the few people to show me any kindness in that house. I’m sorry to tell you that uh, she didn’t make it. Nick Perdition killed her for trying to run away. I- I tried to stop him, I did, I tried but I couldn’t and he…” Dean felt firm thin arms wrap around him and it wasn’t till he felt wet fabric on his cheek that he realized he was crying on her shoulder. He knew he should be comforting her but he just couldn’t stop the flow of tears for all that was lost. He muttered apologies to her over and over while Ellen soothed him and he eventually made out her words.

“Its okay, honey, it wasn’t your fault, I know you tried. I’m glad she wasn’t alone. Thank you Dean for telling me,” her voice a bit cracked but never losing it’s warmth. 

Dean didn’t know how long he stayed like that holding each other, finding comfort in each other. Ellen tried to ask how she died and Dean said it had been quick and painless—a bullet to the head. He didn’t have it in him to recount the horror of that night and he didn’t think she needed to live with that. Some lies were just a kindness.

**************

Sam stood out in the woods behind the bunker, breathing in the warm spring air. His birthday was only a few days away. Eighteen seemed like a long time coming. He thought it was funny that as soon as he was old enough that John couldn’t sell his contracts, all contracts may be a moot point anyway. He watched the small path up the hill, feeling foolish for waiting out there so long.

“Sam.” He glanced over and saw Ruby weaving through the trees toward him.

“What’s going on, Ruby? I told you, I'm not playing your games anymore.” He was done feeling manipulated by her.

“Ouch, that really hurts, Sam. All I ever wanted to do is help bring down the Fist—is that so bad?”

Sam just crossed his arms and scowled at her, trying not to notice how pretty her dark brown hair was when it caught the sunlight.

“I guess if you don’t want to know where Nick Perdition is, I can just go tell Naomi.” Ruby turned to leave before Sam grabbed her arm.

“Wait, you know where he is? How?”

She looked him up and down. “Well, if you let me go, maybe I will tell you.”

Sam quickly let her arm go, taking a step back and she adjusted her coat.

“I wanted to tell you first Sam, but I got a lead from Meg. She says that Nick is at his main estate just outside the capital.”

“Why are you telling me this and not Naomi? What are you trying to play here?” He couldn’t make sense of it. He knew how loyal she was to Naomi. 

“If I tell her, she is gonna nuke the place, like blast it off the face of the earth. Only reason she hasn’t already is cause they only have so many bombs and she doesn’t wanna waste it if the target isn’t there.”

“And why would I not want her to blast that asshole to oblivion?”

Ruby rolled her eyes dramatically. “For such a brainiac you can be real thick, you know that, Winchester? Because if Nick is there, so is Castiel, and I thought you might want a shot at a rescue before she blew them all to hell.”

Sam realized Ruby was right—if they told her, she would blow the place up without a second thought for Cas or any other innocent people there. He needed to come up with a plan and fast.

“Ruby, can you keep this to yourself, just till I can get a rescue party pulled together?”

“That’s asking a lot, Sam. I can’t sit on this forever or Naomi will think I’m a traitor.”

“I shouldn’t need long, just enough of a head start. I need to go find Dean.” He turned to head up the hill before looking back at her. “Why did you do this? I thought you didn’t care about saving innocent people?”

“I don’t, but you do, and I care about you, Sam. No matter what you want to think of me, I still care about you.”

On a whim he moved toward her, sunk his fingers into her hair and bent to press his lips to hers, feeling her move into his touch. He pulled away and planted one more soft kiss on her cheek. 

“Thank you, Ruby, I owe you.” With that, he dashed off back to the bunker to find his brother and get a rescue mission underway.

***********************

Dean paced outside Bobby’s door, feeling Sam’s eyes fixed on him the whole time.

Bobby yawned and stretched as he settled his hat on his head. “What do you two idjits want? I was up all night last night so this better be good.”

Dean pushed his way into Bobby’s room and ignored the grumbled protest as he turned, seeing Sam close the door behind him.

“We have a lead on Nick. He’s at his main house outside the capital.” Dean could feel the urge to move and take action like an itch under his skin he couldn’t scratch.

“Hold up there son, you got a lead?”

“That’s what I said, but we need to move fast if we want to get Cas out of there.”

“Just a second, how did you get this lead? Because most of our intel has said that Nick is on his coastal property with Michael?” Bobby moved to sit down at a small desk, shuffling some books out of the way.

Sam raised a hand to quiet Dean’s coming protest. “Bobby, someone on the inside passed this information along to me. I can’t tell you who but I trust them. Look, if we don’t go before Naomi finds out, everyone there is gonna die.”

“And you two just want to what, waltz in there and say hello we’d like to take your captives now, gee thanks?”

“Bobby, this is our only chance to get him back, to get the others that are there out safely. I am going with or without you, but I think I have a much better chance of not dying with you.”

Dean stared the old man down, and Bobby just stared right back. There was a knock at the door and Sam opened the door to let Benny and Jody in.

“Alright, gentlemen, what's so urgent?” Sheriff Mills crossed her arms, looking between the Winchesters.

Sam filled all of them in on the information he had, leaving out who he’d heard it from. Dean had wanted to push but he was just so happy to have a lead at this point he didn’t care. It took nearly an hour of arguing between the five of them before they decided to launch a rescue mission. They called in Charlie, deciding to bring her as tech support, even though they wanted to keep the group small so as to risk as few people as possible.

Benny had been up for the mission right off the bat and his easy confidence gave Dean the courage he so desperately needed. This was it, he was going to get Cas back. The idea of what awaited him though when they got there brought bile to the back of his throat. He know what Nick was capable of, in a way no one else was. He only hoped they wouldn’t be too late.

Sam and Dean went back to their room to get ready and suited up. Dean put on his black cargo pants and grey tee. He strapped on his thigh holsters for his pistol and throwing knives. He zipped up his canvas coat, checking his ammo, then slinging his rifle on his back. Sam suited up the same and Dean paused a moment, looking him over.

“Sam… maybe you should stay here?”

Sam turned a confused face to him, a slight tip to his head. “What? Why?”

“This is gonna be really dangerous, Sam. This isn’t like the other raids.”

“I’ll be fine, Dean. I can handle this, we trained for this.”

“I just… I went through hell to keep you safe, Sammy, and now it feels like I’m throwing you into the lion’s den.

“First of all, no one is throwing me into anything, I am choosing to do this. Second, this isn’t just your fight or risk to take. I’m not leaving you Dean, not ever again. Whatever danger we need to face out there, we’re stronger together. So grab your shit and let’s go, we’ve got work to do.” Sam reached over slinging a bag on his back and tucking his hair behind his ears. With a nod he headed out the door, Dean hot on his heels.

********************

“C-Castiel,” a soft voice reached his ears. He tried to move his head but it just felt too heavy. “Ar-ar-are you awake?” even softer now. He could barely hear it.

He managed to crack one eye open and peer out into the darkness. He saw the slight form of someone crouched in front of the bars of his cell. Blinking his other eye open he looked and caught a glimpse of red hair.

“Anna?” he asked, coughing and clearing his dry throat.

“Yes, it’s me. I brought you something.” Her thin pale white arm stretched into the cell with something small and silver clutched in her fingers. He moved his good arm to take the small silver-wrapped candy from her. His hands felt so weak he could hardly hold it without dropping it on the floor. 

“Thank you, Anna. How are you and Tessa holding up?”

Anna just shrugged and looked nervously over her shoulder. 

Realistically he’d expected to die a long time ago, and thought even Nick was surprised he hadn’t succumbed and just passed away in the night. He’d been all but forgotten down in his cell for what must have been weeks now. 

“Can you tell me how the rebellion is going?”

Anna again looked around before leaning in toward him. “They are closing in. I heard Master talking, it may only be a matter of weeks if the Fist can’t come up with a plan.”

Even though this was good news Castiel knew that it didn’t mean anything for their own situation. Nick would kill them all before letting them be taken.

BANG!

The door at the top of the stairs slammed open, casting a bright light down the stairs. Anna scurried off into the shadows as big black boots descended toward him.

“Hello, cousin,” Nick’s mocking voice echoed in the room. Castiel slipped the small candy behind himself before Nick could see.

“What, no welcome?” His cousin stood in front of the bars, head cocked to the side, studying him like a science experiment.

“You're welcome to go to hell, Nick.” Castiel fell into another fit of coughing. His lungs felt heavy and just the act of breathing exhausted him.

“Now now, is that any way to talk to me? You know, I have good news to share with you, but if you're going to act like that maybe I won’t let you in on it.”

Castiel scowled at the smirk on his face. He desperately wished he could stand but that hadn’t been possible since his ankles had been all but crushed.

“Jus-just say whatever the fuck it is you came to say… and get the hell out already.”

“If you don’t want to hear about our upcoming visitors then I suppose I could let you be surprised.” Castiel felt a sinking fear in his gut. “Yes, I thought you’d care. My little pretty pet is coming to rescue you. Him and his little fresh meat brother. I’m going to show him and you what it means to cross me.”

Castiel couldn’t begin to piece together any kind of comeback. Would Dean really come for him? He prayed Nick was bluffing, he didn’t think he could survive seeing Dean back in his clutches. That above all was his worst nightmare.

“What, nothing to say to that? I figured not. Don’t worry, I am sure you’ll have plenty to say as soon as they get here. Get ready to beg for mercy, cousin, not that it will do you any good.” Nick turned and as he headed up the stairs he called above him, “Gordon, grab my little cuz down there and get him ready for our guests."


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends!  
> Guys... we did it! We are here, I am so excited to share this chapter. Grab your popcorn, get comfy, grab a blanket and then let me know what you think (no hot beverages we wouldn't want injuries lol). There is obviously still a few more chapters to go but this one while short is big. Hope you all like it and thank you all for sticking with me through this story. I know there has been a lot of heart ache but there's been a lot of love and all your support and comments have meant the world to me. So if I haven't said it enough, THANK YOU READERS <3  
> -CB

“Not much farther. I think if we take this side road it should put us in the row of houses that run behind the Perdition estate.” Sam squinted at his atlas and checked on the radio with Bobby that they were still doing well behind them.

“Sooner the better,” Dean replied with a grunt, running his hands along the steering wheel. He’d insisted on taking Baby while Bobby, Jody, and Benny followed in one of the vans. It felt incredibly reassuring to be behind the wheel of the Impala again with Sam at his side.

“Take this left and there should be an old barn we can stash the car near.”

“And how would you know this?” Dean shot his brother a look.

Dam fidgeted a bit, letting his hair fall in his eyes. “‘Cause I’ve been here before.” Dean almost couldn’t hear his reply.

“You’ve what now? I’m sorry, I thought you said you’ve  _ been _ here before, but that’s impossible… right Sammy?” he glared over at his brother who sank a little lower in his seat.

“I came looking for you, Dean, when I found out who owned you. You were already at Castiel’s at the time, and I… I met Nick.”

Dean felt like his vision was greying out for a minute as he gripped the steering wheel. He took a few steadying breaths as he pulled in front of the old deserted barn that Sam had mentioned, and cut the engine off. Sam waited silently next to Dean and he could practically feel the tension vibrating off his brother.

“Did he hurt you?” because in the end, that’s what mattered most.

“No! No he didn’t he just talked to me and once I realized you weren’t there I- I left.”

Dean nodded, “I’ll yell at you later for taking such an incredibly stupid-ass risk-” he sighed, rubbing his fingers over his eyebrows trying to steady himself, “-but now is not the time.”

They both got out of the car as Bobby was pulling up. All five of them were silent as they checked their weapons and got situated. It was coming on dusk and the sky had turned from a blood orange to a deep shade of magenta. Bobby, Sam and Jody were going to try and slip in the back basement entrance to the estate and try to pick off silently as many security guards as possible. Dean and Benny were going to come through the back garden and try to make it to the patio entrance. They were outnumbered but they had the element of surprise on their side. All of them had put silencers on their guns knowing they had to take out as many people as possible without drawing attention.

Dean gave Sam a squeeze on the shoulder and nodded to Bobby and Jody before following Benny off toward the south side of the property. They moved through the property line along the bushes, keeping low and moving slowly. Dean felt comforted by Benny’s presence and calm confidence. He wished he could be that calm - he felt like his heart was gonna beat out his chest. He tried hard to focus on the endgame, getting Castiel and the others out. Nothing else mattered.

Benny held up his hand in a halt sign and they both shifted back against the tree line as the back of the huge house came into view. The flood lights were on and the whole back yard was fully lit up.

“Alright brother, we just need to stick to our training, okay? Now, I see two guards up on the left. I’d like to take them down without guns if possible, you with me?” Benny pulled out a long bowie knife and Dean did the same.

“I’m with you, I am but... just be careful okay, I’m not sure why the flood lights are on and I don’t like it.” Dean scowled toward the house but the patio and backyard area weren’t yet in view.

“I’m sure they are just on high alert with the rebellion going on.” Benny shot him a reassuring smile. Dean knew that was logical but he also knew Nick hated the flood lights unless he was out in the yard at night. He felt his nerves ratchet up as Benny moved towards the two shadowed figures holding machine guns.

Dean could feel the cool sweat drip down his brow and focused hard on his target. They waited till the guards backs were turned and lunged. Dean wrapped his arm around the blond’s throat, pulling his chin up and drawing the blade across his throat. The man collapsed against him and Dean slowly lowered him to the ground. 

Wiping the blood on the grass, he looked into the man’s blank stare and recognized him vaguely. He didn’t know the guard’s name, but he did remember the brutal fucking he’d received at his hand on more than one occasion, as reward by Nick for good service. Dean spat at the man as he stood back up and looked to Benny who was dragging his guard toward the bushes. 

“Come on, we have to-” Benny’s words were cut off as a spray of blood dusted across Dean’s face and Benny crumpled in front of him. Dean felt his whole body tense as he watched the falling form of his friend and heard the clicking of a bullet into a chamber.

“Hey there, pretty. Boss has been waiting for you.” Gordon’s wide, triumphant grin met his eyes and he was staring down the barrel of his Glock 19. Dean knew without looking that Benny was dead. He could feel it in the stillness at his feet. “Drop your weapon boy, nice and easy.”

Dean’s heart was thumping in his chest, a steady, firm reminder that he was still alive and this wasn’t over. He lowered his gun and Gordon stepped up close to him. Dean knew he had one shot at this and he took it, ducking under the line of the gun he barreled into Gordon shoulder, slamming into the man’s gut. 

They tumbled to the ground, hands and fists grappling with each other. Dean felt a hard knee to the gut and blow to the cheek bone that made him see stars. He shook off the blow and wrapped both hands around Gordon’s neck, squeezing for all he was worth. Gordon struggled and clawed at Dean’s arms, fury on his face. Dean pressed with every ounce of strength he had, watching the look of fury turn to one of panic as Gordon’s eyes slowly began to slide up in his head.

Dean leaned down into his face, catching Gordon’s eyes. “Fuck you, asshole,” and with a final squeeze he felt Gordon go limp beneath him. He leaned back and checked for a pulse to make sure he was really and truly dead before collapsing off to the side, panting and crawling over to Benny. Dean felt the burn in his eyes at the sight of his still body.

“I’m so sorry,” Dean whispered placing a hand on Benny’s bloody chest. He had three deaths on his hands now and while two were well deserved, his heart ached for his fallen friend. That was when the sound reached his ears, a piercing cry of pain. He stiffened and listened and heard the crack of the whip as it cut through the silence of the night. The pained sound that followed was one he hadn’t heard before and yet he knew immediately who it was.

“Come out, come out wherever you are!” Nick’s voice rang out mockingly into the night. “If you don’t, I’ll put a bullet in his head right now.”

Dean trembled at the sound of Nick’s voice, terror whiting out all logical thought he may have had in his head. He felt weak in his knees and bile burning the back of his throat. His mind and body were screaming at him to run as far and fast as he could.

“Come on now, you have ten more seconds sweetheart,” Nick cooed.

“D-D-Dean don’t, run-” A crack and muffled whimper from Castiel cut through his haze of fear. Taking one solid breath he stepped out into the opening of the yard, gun raised.

Castiel’s pale, frail form stood out, stark white in the bright light of the yard. His naked body was thin and streaked with blood, trembling in his bonds. Dean could see the strain of Castiel’s weight against the ropes that tied him to a ring above his head, toes barely touching the ground. 

Dean quickly locked his eyes on Nick who had a terrifying calm look on his face. Nick had a gun held on Castiel, his other hand loosely gripping his whip at his side. Lines of blood splattered across his manic-looking face. Dean managed to keep the tremble out his hand as he kept the gun aimed squarely at Nick’s chest.

“Oh my pretty pet, how I have missed you,” Nick practically purred and broke into a harsh laugh as Dean visibly stiffened. He moved his jaw and tried to answer but no words came out.

"Drop your weapon my little bitch, or I will put a bullet right through my dear cousin’s eyes." Nick's thumb pulled the hammer back and Dean's heart rabbeted in his chest.

He slowly lifted his hands in the air, finger off the trigger. He had to buy time, just enough for Bobby or Jody or even Sam to come and back him up. He cleared his throat and managed to croak out a reply, "Alright, take it easy. Just don't hurt him, okay?"

Dean ignored the whimper from the post and slowly moved to set down his pistol and bowie knife. He pulled his gun and knives from both his thigh holsters, setting all his weapons down carefully in the grass, feeling Nick's eye boring into him like a laser.

"Good pet. Now step over here. Let me get a good look at you."

Dean cringed at the name but managed to keep his head held high as he walked closer to both Nick and Cas. As he drew nearer, he stole a few looks to Castiel and saw the mottling of old and new bruises covering his body, and his horrible swollen ankles. Dean moved to block Castiel, standing halfway between the two, and stared down the barrel of Nick’s gun. For a moment he almost laughed thinking how many times he’d wished for just this, the sweet relief of a bullet to the brain. But that was before he had hope, before he had his brother back. That was before Cas.

“It’s over, Nick. You’ve lost.” Dean kept his voice steady and even.

“It’s Master to you, pet, or do you forget so quickly? Last time I checked, you’re the one staring down the business end of a gun,” Nick smiled.

“Your losing the war, it’s only a matter of time. The Hand already controls most of the major cities now, and their army is growing by the day as more and more people cut their bands and join the fight.” Dean couldn’t hide the small grin to see that tiny flicker of fear in Nick’s eyes. He held up his bare and bracelet-free wrist. ”People like me.”

“I don’t give two shits about this bloody country or your traitorous rebellion. Come morning, you and I will be on a plane south to my villa where I can take my time making you pay.”

“D-Dean, y-y-you have to… get out of here,” Castiel whispered behind him. His voice was even rougher than it normally was. “H-h-h-e knew you, were coming.”

Dean stiffened, never taking his eyes off Nick as a look of triumph flashed over Nick’s face. Dean glanced up at the still house, wondering where the others were, thinking he should have seen them by now.

“Looking for your friends?” Nick laughed, “I’m sure my guards have dealt with them by now. I do hope you brought baby brother Sammy too. Did you know we met already, pet? Came by looking for his big brother. I wasn’t sure it was him but I did a little digging after he left and I knew those hazel green eyes and strong chin looked familiar. He will be so much fun breaking in.”

Dean wanted to lunge at Nick and tear his throat out, rage burning through him like a fire. Anger was good though, it was a hell of a lot better than fear and he’d about a lifetime enough of that emotion. He fought for control - he had to play this smart. He needed to get Cas out of the line of fire.

“You don’t need him, or Cas, you have me, alright? Just, just let me say goodbye, okay?” Dean slowly stepped back, edging toward Castiel. There was a loud banging and the sounds of shots being fired from somewhere in the house. Nick spun to look and Dean took his chance, darting to Castiel and flipping the hidden knife out. He stretch up to cut the ropes, pressing his body up against Castiel’s.

“I’ve got you, Cas. Just hold on, okay? Follow my lead,” Dean whispered against Castiel’s ear. The rope gave easily and Castiel crumpled into his arms, unable to stifle his whimper of pain. Dean laid Castiel down in the grass a few feet from the whipping post, whispering into his ear before standing up to see an advancing Nick.

“Get over here, you worthless bitch,” Nick snarled and Dean backed up, hands held high, palms open and unarmed till he felt the whipping post behind him. Nick was on Dean before he could so much as blink. Large hands wrapped around his throat and Dean struggled with all his might to stay calm. Dean gave a muffled, weak little sound, letting a little of the fear leak through. Nick latched onto it like he was shark after chum.  _ That’s it asshole, just a scared little weakling. _

“You will learn to call me Master again, whore.” Nick banged Dean’s head against the unforgiving post and Dean momentarily saw stars. “What’s my name?!” Nick spat at him.

“M-master,” Dean stuttered out, thinking to himself,  _ not much longer _ . He squirmed and wiggled but made no real effort to get loose, knowing Nick liked just enough struggle.

“You’re nothing more than a tight pretty hole to fuck. That’s all you’re good for.” Nick leaned into him. “Now I wanna hear you beg.”

Dean caught a glimpse of movement and smiled up into those watery blue eyes. “Never again, you evil dick.” He felt Castiel press the blade into his hand and he pulled it up, stabbing it into Nick’s groin, hearing his loud, piercing cry of pain. As he withdrew the blade, he slashed it down, tearing a hole across Nick’s thigh and slicing right through the femoral artery.

Nick buckled and collapsed against Dean, who spun and tossed the heavy weight toward the post behind him. Turning and panting he watched as Nick slowly sunk against the post a look of shock and pain across his face. He stared, transfixed, watching the life drain out of his tormentor and drew in a slow breath, letting out a sob of relief when Nick’s body went still for good.

It was over… it was really and truly over. He nearly choked on the overwhelming flood of relief and put his hands to his knees, staggering back a bit. Adrenaline still coursing through him, he tried to catch his breath and steady himself. 

“Dean.” The voice was small and Dean looked at Castiel who was laying stretched out on the grass. He dove for him quickly, pulling his head into his lap, trying to assess his many wounds.

“Easy, Cas, alright? Help is coming, I just need you to hang on, okay?” Castiel’s skin was cold and sticky with blood.

His eyes flickered open, locking on Dean’s. “Are you okay?” 

Dean half laughed and half choked back tears. “Yeah, I’m okay, I’m not the one hurt this time.” He stroked a soothing hand through Castiel’s hair and felt a him tremble under his hand. He quickly shrugged out of his coat, throwing it over Cas’s torso.

“That’s good, I-I’m tired of seeing you h-h-hurt,” Castiel tried for a smile but it quickly fell from his face. Dean looked up and saw Sam running down the back steps, followed by Bobby and Jody.

“I need help. Get the medical kit!” Dean called and watched Sam nod, heading back towards the house at a sprint. He took a moment to be relieved the others were okay and turned his attention back to Cas.

Jody came up behind him and gave Cas a cursory once over. “You’re gonna be okay, Cas. You just need some fluids and rest. Just hang in there.” Jody’s smile was warm and reassuring as she left to help Sam grab what he needed. 

Dean watched Castiel’s eyes start to flicker closed. “Hey there, stay with me, okay? I still need to tell you something.”

“W-w-whats that?” Castiel asked, his breathing seeming more labored.

“You promise to fight and stay with me and I’ll tell you?” Dean gave him a smile, his vision now blurry with tears.

“I promise,” he huffed.

Dean leaned down slowly, cupping Castiel’s face in his hand and gently brushed a kiss across his lips before whispering... “I love you, Cas.”

Castiel’s rough voice answered slowly, “I love you too, Dean,” and Castiel slipped into unconsciousness, going limp in Dean’s cradling arms.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Friends!  
> Okay this is the second to last chapter, there is an epilogue coming but we are finally getting to the end here. Thanks for sticking around on this story, I love you all for the support and sharing this with me.  
> \- CB

Castiel faded in and out of consciousness but was never fully able to open his eyes. He heard familiar voices, mostly Dean's giving him reassuring words.  _ Why did he need those? _ He really didn't feel much pain, which he found surprising, since he'd been in agony during his last lucid memory.

Sharp voices pierced his consciousness this time and he focused in as best he could on the flow of the conversation.

"I'm not going anywhere, Bobby, not till he wakes up." Dean, that was definitely Dean.

"Naomi wants a rundown on what happened in the next hour and seeing as you took down one of the Perdition brothers, she's gonna wanna talk to you."

"Screw her. She can wait, I'm not moving." 

He cracked a small smile at the sound of Dean's defiance and felt his chapped lips pull uncomfortably. He fought but managed to crack his eyes open, blinking up to see a firm jaw scowling above him. He tried to lick his lips to speak but his mouth was so dry. He tried instead for wiggling a finger seeing as they were flat under Dean's hand. Bright green eyes latched onto his at the tiny movement.

"Cas! You’re awake! No, no, just stay still, okay?" Dean chided, smiling at him, his eyes getting shiny.

"Wha-Wha..." he trailed off, still not finding it easy to talk. Dean moved and pushed something and the bed started to rise, lifting him to a half-sitting position. Then a tiny cup of water and straw was brought to his lips. He gratefully drank, letting the cool water sit in his dry mouth a moment before swallowing.

"That better?" 

Castiel nodded at him, blinking and looking around the room. It appeared to be a medical bay of some kind and there were a few other beds, about half of them filled with patients.

"I'll leave you two boys to it, but be in the map room in an hour, Dean. I mean it." Bobby wagged a finger at him before turning to Cas. "Glad to have you back, boy."

"Thanks, Bobby." He gave a weak smile and turned back to Dean, who was studying his face like it was a textbook. "What happened?" 

Dean leaned over, grabbing something from the tray next to the bed. Dean grasped his face gently and began running the smooth item over his lips that he now assumed was lip balm.

"We rescued you, that's what happened." Dean gave a small sigh, sitting back. "We saved Tessa and Anna and about thirty other slaves too. They had a whole bunch of them locked up in some side room in the basement." 

Castiel nodded, thinking he had heard some sounds through the wall but the estate was just so huge. "Ev-everyone... okay?" he still struggled to talk, keeping his words to whisper.

Dean grimaced a moment before straightening his features. "We came pretty close. Nick had known we were coming and had extra guards laying in wait. Luckily Bobby, Sam and Jody acted quick and managed to take them all down before freeing the other people. It took longer than they hoped though which is why they didn't show when I thought they would... We uh, we lost Benny though."

Castiel saw the pained look in his friends face and flipped his palm open on the bed. Dean immediately laced their fingers together and took a long, steadying breath. "I'm sorry, Dean. He was a good man. Did he... did you and he become... close?" He watched Dean's face as he turned to look at Cas. He couldn't help but wonder, they had spent so many months apart and their time together had been forced upon Dean. If the man had found someone else who made him happy then...

"Cas," Dean's voice cut through his racing thoughts. Dean leaned in and pressed their lips together, warm and soft and he melted into the embrace. Dean pulled up and smiled at him, eyes still a bit glossy from tears. "He was a good friend, I'll miss him, and he died helping me save the love of my life so I'll always owe him for that."

Castiel reached his free hand out, pulling Dean in for another kiss, relishing in the feel of the man’s touch. For the first time, he thought he understood why Dean had been so touch-starved. After so many months of every touch to his skin bringing pain, all he wanted now was to feel Dean soft against him. They pressed their foreheads together a moment, eyes closed and sharing breath, each just enjoying the fact that the other was there and alive. He went to move his legs and felt a sharp pain and hissed.

"Don't try to move those, they have them reset in casts. You only just got out of surgery an hour ago," Dean replied and sat back up, keeping a hand pressed to his cheek.

"How bad is it?" He'd been fearing this from the moment Gordon smashed his ankles with that sledge hammer. Even if he'd had immediately medical care he still figured he'd be crippled for life. Modern medicine was advanced but still, his ankles had been left in pieces for weeks. He was surprised they hadn't been chopped off altogether.

"It's not so bad. Your cuts and other wounds were superficial, the spray healed up most of those pretty quickly. You still have a few cracked ribs and your cheek bone has a crack but those should all heal. You’re really underweight, dude, so all the cheese burgers you can eat once your up to it." Dean gave him a small smile.

"My ankles, Dean. What did they say about those?"

Dean's lips pressed into a firm line. "They are really fucked up."

"That the medical diagnosis?" he teased and Dean scowled at him before staring down at the bed.

"They had to break and reset most of the bones. There was a lot of scar tissue to debride. They said you stand a good chance of walking again, but it’s gonna take a while and a lot of rehab. But don't worry about that. I’ll be there every step of the way, okay?" Dean looked at him now with such an intense stare, daring Cas to challenge him.

"Sounds like a plan to me, Dean. It’s more than I hoped for." He had a feeling Dean was playing up his chances of walking again but he didn't want to burst his hopeful bubble.

"We're free?" Castiel asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from Dean's lips.

"We're free, handsome." Dean held up his bare wrist as proof.

"I missed you so much." Cas couldn't help the tears that began to pour out of him and he broke into horrible wrenching sobs. He just couldn't believe it, Dean was really there and so was he and they were safe. Dean pulled him into his arms and he felt the tug of an IV but still managed to grip Dean tight, burying his tear-stained face in the man's shoulder.

"Shh shh shh, it's okay Cas, were okay. I missed you, too." There was a choked sound to Dean's voice as they held each other, Dean's hand making a comforting circle on his back. It took them both a while to compose themselves and pull back again. He was horribly embarrassed at his loss of control but figured he deserved some slack, given the circumstances. Dean grabbed a tissue, wiping his cheeks dry for him and smiling.

"Hey, Cas, you’re up!" 

He looked to see Sam jogging into the room, a huge grin across his face.

"Well, sitting up, yes. It’s so good to see you, Sam," he said earnestly.

"You too, Cas. We were really worried about you." Sam smile was warm and genuine and it felt good to know how much he meant to Dean's brother. "Are you guys coming to the war room?"

"Cas still needs to rest, Sammy," Dean scowled.

"We can go. I want to hear the update on everything. But I will need help getting there."

"Cas, you really shouldn't be moving around," Dean frowned.

"Just grab me a wheelchair and I can make it. These pain meds are good." Castiel pulled back his blanket to reveal pajama pants and two thick air casts on his legs. He was fairly certain the tee shirt he wore once belonged to Dean with some unknown name across the front. They got Cas settled in the wheelchair, which took both Winchesters carefully lifting him and getting him settled before hooking up his IV bag to the pole on the chair and getting his feet at a level they didn't hurt too bad.

"This is such a bad idea," Dean mumbled, not for the first time.

"It will be fine, Dean. Onward!" he yelled, pointing toward the door. He heard Sam chuckle.

"Uh, other way," Sam smiled at him.

Cas smiled back and turned his head, hitching a thumb over his shoulder. "Onward that way!" and both Winchesters laughed at that spinning around and heading for the war room.

******************

Dean pushed Castiel’s chair down through the bunker hallways till they came out at the war room. Naomi was there talking with Bobby at the map table, a serious frown on both their faces. Jody sat at a nearby desk, flipping through papers. All eyes turned to them, however, as they entered.

“Come on in, boys. We’ll keep this brief,” Naomi chirped and Bobby and Jody exchanged looks but kept their lips sealed.

Dean pushed Castiel into the room, gripping the handles and seriously wishing he could just bring him back to bed. He was exhausted, having only had a few hours sleep sitting up in the van ride back to the bunker, and a few more hours bent over Castiel’s hospital bed.

“So, Sam, Bobby informs me that it was you who had the tip about where Nick Perdition was hiding out?” Sam set his jaw a moment and gave a quick nod. “Well, care to share with the class who gave you this information that you all didn’t feel the need to share with me?” Naomi glared at Sam and Dean felt his brother shift just a little at his side. He looked over at Dean who gave him a nod. No reason not to tell now.

“Uh well, Ruby told me that Meg gave her the information.” Sam still darted a worried glance at Dean, who tried to give him a reassuring smile.

“But Meg is has been in the station up North. How would she have known about where Perdition was?” Naomi piped up.

“She wouldn’t.” All eyes darted back to the library as loud bang went off. Dean watched as a stunned-looking Naomi slumped to the floor, her blouse soaking through with blood. Behind her stood a wild-eyed Ruby.

“Think you can take down my master and get away with it?” Ruby laughed as Dean’s heart plummeted, watching her level the gun straight at Dean’s chest. “I served you up on a silver platter and he failed to bring you down, but I’m gonna do what even Nick Perdition couldn’t, Because I’m awesome!”

There was no time left, Dean could only draw in a breath before there was another loud bang, blood spraying over the bookshelves and Ruby tumbling to the floor. He was gripping Castiel’s shoulder and looking between Bobby and Jody, but neither had moved and neither were armed.

He then looked over at his brother, who was still holding his M 1911 poised to fire at the now empty spot where Ruby had been standing. He moved slowly toward him and put a hand gently on his outstretched arm. “Easy there, Sammy, just put it down now, okay?”

Sam’s whole body was rigid and it was a moment before he let Dean take his weapon from him. Dean could see the tremors start in his large frame. For all his height and all his talk, he was still just a kid and he had just killed his girlfriend. “Dee,” Sammy trailed off and Dean pulled Sam into a tight hug, letting his baby brother wrap his arms around him and release his shaky breaths.

He glanced over to see Bobby checking Ruby’s body and Jody looking over Naomi. He felt Castiel’s hand rest on his hip with a reassuring squeeze.

“She was gonna kill you,” Sam said, barely above a whisper.

“I know, Sammy. You did good.” Dean pulled back, holding onto his brother’s broad shoulders. “You did the right thing, okay? Don’t you second guess that for a second, alright?”

Sam opened his mouth but just nodded.

“Well crap, I guess that’s two birds one stone though.” Bobby stood, resettling the trucker cap on his head.

“Dean, take Castiel back to the medical bay and take Sam with you. We can handle this from here, alright?” Jody gave Dean an understanding smile and he gratefully took both of them and ushered them back to the medical bay. He thanked his lucky stars that they both got out of that one unscathed.

“No more meetings, no more rebellion, no more of the people I care about getting shot at. Do you hear me?” he growled at both of them.

“Yes, Dean,” the two replied in unison. It was music to Dean’s ears.

 

**FOUR MONTHS LATER**

 

“Come on, Cas, just one more lap.” Dean smiled at his very sweaty boyfriend. Castiel was sweating through Dean’s AC/DC shirt and leaning his hands heavily on his knees. 

“I- I don’t think I can make it,” Cas panted, looking shaky.

“Sure you can. Come on, you do one more lap and there’s a reward in it for you.” Dean winked and Castiel shot him a doubtful glance.

“If it’s pie again I can do without.”

“I can do better than pie,” he retorted.

“Dean Winchester, I thought nothing was better than pie?” Castiel cracked a small smile.

“You’ll just have to finish the lap and find out.”

With a groan Castiel picked up the pace into a jog again, Dean next to him. It had been a slow road to recovery for Castiel with Dean pushing and pulling him every inch of the way. Just the fact that he was jogging even a few short laps on his ankles was a miracle. The braces he now wore made a big difference, but Dean saw the pain he was hiding on his face. 

They finished the lap and Castiel flopped down in the grass next to the old track, gasping for breath. Dean grinned down at him, admiring the tanned skin and pink that was brushed over his cheeks.

“You’re gorgeous, you know that?” he smiles, catching his own breath.

“I’m a sweaty mess, Dean. You need your eyes checked.”

Dean gave Cas a tiny kick to the side, making him yip. “My eyes see just fine, and you are damn handsome. Now come on, up you go.”

He pulled Cas to his feet and crouched down, giving him a piggyback ride to the locker rooms. They grabbed a quick shower before heading back toward the Impala. The old athletic complex by the bunker was deserted this time of day, and the sun had almost completely set. Dean opened the back door to the Impala and bowed extravagantly, pointing toward the seat.

“What’s going on, Dean?” Cas asked warily.

“Your reward for doing the extra lap tonight. Come on, hop in.” He couldn’t keep the Cheshire Cat grin off his face.

Castiel rubbed at his still damp, messy hair, but he slid into the seat all the same. Dean happily followed him, immediately seeking out the other man’s lips. He slowly lowered his hips down on the man below him, slotting their legs together. He felt Castiel’s half-hard erection in his jeans and started a slow grind against him as he pushed the kiss deeper.

Cas melted under him, hard but pliant all at the same time. This, this was what it was meant to be like - unhurried and undemanding, just warmth seeking out warmth, both desperate for that contact even now. He had put a lot of thought into this moment, and he was pretty sure he’d never wanted anything so bad.  

He slipped his hand into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulled out a small bottle, pressing it into Castiel's chest. Castiel's brow furrowed as he looked down at the tiny bottle of lube.  
  
"I want you, Cas. I need you in me," he whispered, feeling suddenly embarrassed. Castiel immediately sat up and Dean rocked back on his heels.  
  
"Dean, you can't... we haven't... you don't have to-"  
  
Dean put a finger over his lips, hushing him. "I can. I know we haven't, but I want to." He moved his finger, planting a reassuring kiss to his boyfriend’s mouth. He needed Cas to get on board with this and bring some confidence to the table, ‘cause if he was honest with himself, he was a little terrified. He would never consider such a thing with anyone but the man before him. He knew it could feel good if it was done right, and he wanted Cas to claim him, to take away that feeling of taint and replace it with love.  
  
"Are you really sure you want this?" Castiel asked, a soft look in his blue eyes.  
  
"Please, Cas?" he didn't want to beg, but he really did need it. He needed to wipe away all the memories and pain and replace them with something good, something that was all his.  
  
Castiel shifted so his butt was on the edge of the bench seat. He slowly slipped his jeans and boxer briefs off to below his knees. Leaning back a bit, he smiled at Dean. Dean moved to slip out of his sweatpants, having gone commando, and he moved to straddle Castiel on the seat, their erections now rubbing together. The sensation pulled a low moan from his throat.  
  
Castiel only chuckled. "You’re so beautiful, Dean." Cas pushed Dean's chin up so he could kiss and lick his way down his neck to his collarbone. Dean shivered at the sensation, letting Cas pull his tee shirt off.  
  
Castiel's fingers made a slow descent down to Dean’s nipples. He was starting to learn his body, and Castiel knew how sensitive he was there. Castiel latched his mouth to the left nub while his left hand rolled and teased the right. Dean's hips began rocking as he pressed his forehead into Castiel's shoulder, kissing at the soft, tanned skin there.  
  
When Castiel's free hand moved around the cleft of his assd Dean gave an involuntary little gasp. The hand didn't go any further, just moved in a gentle, caressing way over his skin. Dean was rock hard and squirming at the intense sensations coming from his nipples. A slick cool finger pressed at his hole, moving in a slow circle.  
  
He could sense the hesitation, though. "Do it, Cas... I won't- I won't break." His words were stilted as he tried to keep his voice level. Considering Castiel was currently undoing him with his tongue, he thought he was doing a damn good job.  
  
He felt the long, slender digit sink into him slowly and he let out a breathy, "Oh fuck," as Castiel slowly began to pump in and out of him. He rocked up and down with the motion. He found the little bottle and, coating his hands with an excessive amount, he grasped both of their cocks together, pulling and stroking in time with Castiel's drive into him.  
  
One finger became two and then three, as Castiel lifted his head up to kiss Dean, pressing for entrance into his mouth. Dean felt utterly consumed and yet not nearly full enough. He wanted more, he wanted all of it. He leaned up on his knees, rising above Castiel and stared down at him.  
  
"Are you ready, Dean? We can stop at any time." He saw the flush and lust in Castiel's eyes, but he knew he meant what he said. Dean was the one in control here. He nodded, smiling, and felt Castiel shift, lining up with him. He felt the solid grip of Castiel's strong hands on his hips as he guided him down. The stretch burned, overwhelming, but not painful. It took a moment, and Dean was shaking a bit as he became fully seated.  
  
Castiel pressed a soft kiss to his collarbone, waiting for him to adjust. He took a moment, gripping Castiel's shoulders harder than he meant to. But eventually his body was screaming at him to move and feel the smooth, overwhelming drag. He pulled up and started a slow rising and falling motion, aided by Castiel's hands on his hips. Cas shifted his hips a bit, changing the angle and Dean's vision whited out for a moment in pure bliss.  
  
Cas started a hard pace now, driving into that spot as Dean began to babble incoherently between breathy moans. He had never felt stimulation like this in all his time at the farm, and with Nick it had never felt like this. He thought it might shatter him into pieces. For a second he thought that maybe that's exactly what he wanted - to shatter in this man’s arms, knowing Castiel would put him back together.  
  
Dean finally felt the tight coiling sensation in his balls and the building wave of his orgasm crashed over him, his whole body seizing and tensing. "Dean," Castiel cried out and he felt warmth pulsing into him as his muscles slowly went limp.  
  
Dean flopped against Castiel, resting his face on the man’s shoulder and tried to catch his breath. The warmth of Castiel's body grounded him and gave him a sense of security and calm.  
  
Castiel ran a hand over the top of his head, planting a kiss to his temple. "Was that okay, Dean?"  
  
He couldn't help but chuckle. "That was amazing, Cas."  
  
Castiel turned his head to smile at him. "With this kind of motivation I will be running a ten minute mile in no time."  
  
"You bet my sweet ass you will," he smiled back.  
  
"We better get cleaned up and head back. Jody's big speech is tonight, she'll want us there."  
  
Dean nodded. Since the rebels had won the war a month before, things had been hectic at the bunker. Jody had taken over after Naomi's demise and swiftly taken control of the government. She halted Naomi's plans for gold band enslavement, calling for all bands and class designation records to be expunged, wiping the slate clean for all its citizens. There were trials for war crimes against humanity being scheduled, but those would take years to be completed.  
  
Michael hadn’t been located, having hopped a helicopter and flown south. Dean sincerely hoped they found him soon though. The thought of a Perdition still out there irked him.   
  
They cleaned themselves up and got dressed, Dean climbing into the driver's seat. He tossed his arm up along the top of the seat. Castiel took the invitation, sliding in against Dean's side like he'd always been there, and they headed back to the bunker with knowing smiles on both their faces. It was a new world they were heading into, but at least they were facing it together, and Dean wouldn't have it any other way.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Friends!  
> Well if you are reading this, you've made! This is the epilogue and I think a long time coming for our boys. I want to really thank you for reading this story. It was something I felt really compelled to write but it was something I was scared to write the way I wanted for fear of it being to dark. I am really glad m y friends encouraged me and all of you encouraged me to write this and I am proud of how it all turned out. I didn't want to shy away from the dark because I think the darkness makes the light so much brighter and its one of the many reasons why I love the show so much. I hope this is the ending you all were hoping for. Again your comments have really brightened my day and kept me writing and I thank you for them. I am going to miss these boys, but onward to other stories.  
> Love  
> CB  
> Special HUGE thank you to my editor EllenOfOz and my Beta reader waywardjenn for all the love and support with this story, you guys are my best friends and I couldn't do it without you <3 <3 <3 Love you both!

THREE YEARS LATER....   
  
"Can we at least try a different tape?" Castiel questioned, glancing over at Dean. AC/DC was blasting through the Impala and between that and the wind from all the windows down he could hardly hear Castiel's question.   
  
"Sorry, Cas, driver picks the music and shotgun shuts his cake hole." Dean grinned when he saw Cas rolling his eyes.   
  
"In your case it would be a pie hole." Castiel gave him a halfhearted scowl and Dean could only laugh, turning down the volume.   
  
"That better, handsome?"   
  
He watched the blush creep up Castiel's cheeks, thinking he was really the luckiest man alive. "Yes, thank you, though I am getting hungry."   
  
Dean had to agree and his stomach gave a well-timed growl. They were still another few hours from the coast but he was keeping an eye out for a diner to grab some lunch. He still couldn't believe they had waited so long to go on this trip, and it was totally needed. Castiel had been working way too hard in Dean's opinion.   
  
The restructuring of the government had been a long and arduous process. There had been several small groupings of gold band loyalists who were rebelling. They had popped up those first few months, but most were squashed fairly quickly. Michael had stayed in the wind along with many of those who had been highest up in the government. Dean tried not to feel bitter about them getting away. Trials didn't even start for war crimes till a year after what was now being called Liberation Day.   
  
Dean smiled, thinking of the day they watched Jodi getting officially sworn in as President for her first four-year term. Castiel, Sam and Dean had thrown an inauguration party at their new apartment. Sam lived with them till he got accepted to college and moved into the dorms. Sometimes Dean still missed having Sam close by, but that feeling quickly washed away when they talked and he heard how happy he was.   
  
"There's a diner at that exit," Castiel pointed and Dean shook himself out his thoughts.   
  
"Sounds good to me," Dean reached across the seat, grabbing a hold of Castiel's hand, reassuring in his own.   
  
They parked and Dean planted a kiss to his boyfriend's cheek before getting out of the car and stretching. It was a really nice sunny day and Dean closed his eyes, allowing the sun to warm his face. He still hated the dark, and just accepted it was something he was gonna carry with him. Castiel was understanding, having experienced the darkness himself, and a light on in the hall seemed to keep most bad dreams away.   
  
"Dean, come on, I'm starved."   
  
Dean laughed, opening his eyes to see Castiel grinning and tapping his toe. He lunged, tickling at Castiel's sides till he jumped and yipped and Dean pulled him back against his chest, planting a soft kiss on his neck. "I could just toss you in the back seat and have you for lunch instead."   
  
"You wouldn't like me much, too chewy." Castiel turned in his arms and winked at him before grabbing Dean's hand and leading him toward the diner.   
  
It was like every other diner he remembered from his childhood—worn linoleum floors, torn vinyl seats fixed with duct tape, and menus that always had at least one page stuck together. The smell of greasy goodness made his stomach growl again, though.   
  
"What can I get for you two?" the waitress asked, coming over and setting down two glasses of water.   
  
"Well I'll take a Coke, a double bacon cheeseburger and an extra side of fries."   
  
"I'll have the same as him, but can I have onion rings?"   
  
"Sure thing, sugar. Coming right up." The woman headed back behind the counter and Dean stretched again, putting his arms up along the top of the booth.   
  
"What are you smiling about?" Castiel asked, watching him.   
  
"Dunno, just happy I guess." He really was, too—content on a level he never hoped he would be. Things weren't perfect but they were pretty damn close.   
  
"I'm happy, too." Castiel's smile could have lit up the whole place.   
  
The bell of the door jingled behind Dean and he didn't pay it any mind until he heard a voice that he would know anywhere.   
  
"Cup of coffee, miss." The voice came from the counter and Dean felt his heart race in his chest. He felt pale, all the blood draining from his face leaving a queasy feeling in his gut.   
  
"Are you alright?" Castiel's voice sounded a bit far off. He blinked and turned to look over at the man now seated at the counter sipping on a cup of coffee.   
  
He didn't know what to do, so he just sat there staring at him. He looked different, his clothes a little more ratty then they were before, and his hair was more grey and beard grown in more. Still, he'd know the face anywhere. He stood slowly, walking over to him stopping a few feet away, and all he could do was stare.   
  
"What you looking at, asshole?" John grumbled, looking up into Dean's face. It took a second for recognition to dawn. Dean watched as his father’s face changed from annoyed to shocked. "Dean? Is that really you, son?"   
  
"I'm not your son," Dean replied, finding his voice.   
  
John smiled and leapt up off his stool, wrapping his arms around Dean in a crushing hug. Dean snapped out of his frozen state then and pushed John away from him, so he went stumbling back against the stool.   
  
"Dean, won't you give your old man a hug?" John asked, and the utter balls it took for him to say that floored Dean.   
  
"You have got to be fucking kidding me." Dean practically shook with anger. "After what you did to me, what you did to Sam, you have the guts to ask me for a god damn hug?"   
  
"Look, son, I'm-"   
  
"I am not your son," he spat. "I stopped being your son the day you sold me off like a piece of your damn property."   
  
John at least had the good sense to look abashed but it was far too little and years too late. "Dean, I always meant to bust you out. It was never meant to be forever."   
  
Dean barked a laugh. "Any amount of time was too damn long, you son of a bitch." He felt the anger heating his face and felt a hand wrap around his upper arm, but he shook it off.   
  
"I'm sorry, Dean, I really am, but you're a strong boy, I knew you'd be okay," John waved a hand at him. "Just look at you now."   
  
"Okay? Okay? You think I'm okay?" Dean stepped back, running his hands through his hair. He knew most of the restaurant was watching them and he could feel Castiel behind him, his steady rock like he always was.   
  
Tears pricked his eyes and god damn it he didn't want to do this, not in front of this man. "You betrayed me... I trusted you with my life, I looked up to you, took care of your drunk ass, took care of my brother, and you threw me away. You sent me off to be tortured, and raped, and beaten within an inch of my life. They... they broke me, shattered me into a million pieces and all I could think was, this is what my dad thinks I deserve. This is what I am worth. I was nothing more then the a shell of a man."   
  
The silence was deafening for a beat before John's rough voice answered, "You don't look broken to me."   
  
He glanced over at Castiel then, seeing the anger and worry etched across his face. He turned back to look at the man before him, the sad, sorry excuse for his father. He really saw him then, alone and broken, obviously having drunk through all that money, judging by his appearance. John was alone in a way Dean never would be.   
  
"I got lucky. Castiel found me, and he put all my pieces back together. He saved me, and not just by taking me away from all the abuse and the torment, but by loving me. Seeing me for the person I could be. I wouldn't be here today to tell you any of this if it wasn't for him." He felt some of the tension and anger drain out of him then. What did it matter what this man thought of him? He was loved now, and none of the past mattered. 

He looked over again at the shining blue eyes staring at him, filled with nothing but utter devotion. He was the luckiest man alive. He laughed a minute, an awkward, bubbling, manic laugh that brought new tears to his eyes. John looked a bit disconcerted like he thought Dean might be having a mental breakdown.   
  
"It doesn't matter," he said, the laugh dying out. "It doesn't matter anymore. I don't need you, maybe I never did. You didn't have to be alone, John, but that's the path you chose. You turned your back on your family, and that's the price you'll pay for what you did. Your gonna be alone and miserable for the rest of your likely short life. When your time comes, no one is gonna mourn you. I don't hate you anymore." That last sentence surprised even himself, but the words rang true. "I don't hate you, I don't wanna carry this hate around with me any more. I'm done with it and done with you. Go and live your life, John, maybe find some absolution somewhere else, ‘cause as far as I am concerned, you and me, we're finished."   
  
John looked at him, a pained expression on his face, and gave him a curt nod. "For what it’s worth, I'm sorry for all I did to you, and all I didn't do for you. I hope you're happy and that guy there takes better care of you then I did. Goodbye, Dean." 

Dean watched the retreating form of his father, his half-drunk coffee still on the counter, as he slipped outside, climbing into an old rusty truck and driving away.  
  
Dean turned and, avoiding eye contact, wrapped his arms around Castiel and buried his face in the crook of his neck. It took him a moment to compose himself.  
  
"Do you wanna go, Dean?" Castiel asked softly as Dean saw the waitress put the burgers down on the table a sort of sad knowing look of concern on her face. Dean figured he wasn't the only person who had to go through what he did, and at least he had Cas.  
  
"No, I'm starved. Let's finish our food." he planted a kiss on Castiel’s forehead, and didn't protest when Cas slid into his side of the booth with him, sitting side by side together. The overwhelming relief of it all drained out of him and he felt like he'd broken free of a shackle he didn't even realize was still there.  
  
************  
  
Dean was quiet and contemplative as they got back in the Impala, driving west. Castiel watched him, and could practically see the gears turning. He'd managed not to vent his own anger at John, though he was kinda regretting not taking at least one swing at the man. Seeing and hearing the pain Dean had been carrying was enough to break his heart. Like always though, Dean never ceased to amaze him with how resilient and strong he was.  
  
"What?" Dean asked, and Castiel blinked, shaking his head.  
  
"Sorry?"  
  
"You're staring. You got something on your mind?" Dean had his eyes on the road but cast a small grin his way.  
  
"Oh, just thinking how incredibly brave and strong my boyfriend is. Do you realize how impressive you are?"  
  
Dean flushed a little, shifting in his seat. "I'm not special, Cas. I haven't done anything anyone else wouldn't."  
  
"Someday I hope you see yourself the way I do. Not everyone is as brave as you are. Most people wouldn't have had the courage to confront someone like that, to be that honest. Braver still to let it go. Just the fact you haven't given up on being happy, that's the bravest thing you could do." He watched as the words slowly sank in. Maybe this time they would stick.  
  
Dean shrugged, fighting a shy smile. "Yeah well, I have a pretty cute boyfriend who makes it worth the effort."  
  
"That you do," Castiel replied, sliding over on the bench seat so he could tuck himself under Dean's arm. They sat pressed together, watching the road fly before them and Castiel kept a hand on Dean's knee, rubbing the soft denim under his thumb. They pulled in to a long sandy drive that twisted and turned till they came upon a cottage sitting in the dunes.  
  
Dean and Cas grabbed their bags and used the code to open the key box. The cottage was small and the paint was peeling but it was absolutely perfect—a studio with a queen sized bed and small kitchenette. Dean was beaming from ear to ear taking it all in.  
  
"This place is perfect! Great find, Cas." He gave Castiel's shoulder a squeeze and ran to the big window, looking out to see the expanse of ocean stretching out to the horizon.  
  
"Wanna go down and take a walk?" Castiel couldn't hide his own excitement, getting to watch Dean see the ocean for the first time.  
  
"Hell yes, I do." He hopped around, pulling off his boots and would have nearly toppled over in his haste if Cas hadn't caught him. They rolled up their jeans to below the knee and went out the back door, following the small path to the beach. Dean got halfway to the water and stopped, looking frozen in place as his eyes watched the crashing waves and tide rolling in.  
  
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Castiel smiled up at Dean, watching the dying afternoon light brighten his face.  
  
"It's... it's really fucking big." Dean walked slowly toward the water and Cas just hung back, watching him. Dean moved carefully through the warm sand onto the harder packed damp sand until the first little wave broke over his feet. Dean yipped and jumped a little. "Its cold!" he called over his shoulder.  
  
Castiel laughed, "Well yes, it is this time of year and this far north."  
  
Dean stepped in deeper till the waves were splashing up against his shins. "Not so bad once you're in it." 

Castiel went down toward the water, gasping a little at the cold till he was in foot-deep as well.   
  
Dean smirked at him and it was all the warning he got before Dean reached down and, cupping the water, splashed it up at Castiel.   
  
"Hey!" Cas exclaimed and kicked a huge splash right back at Dean. A splash fight ensued till both of them were panting and soaked and Castiel took a chance to tackle Dean down into the waves. They both floundered a bit, laughing and struggling to sit up, now totally soaked. Dean's mousy brown hair showed off its gold highlights in the remainder of sunlight left. They both sat back in the shallow water, their hands sinking into the sand and looking out as the sun started setting.   
  
"You got me all wet," Dean grumbled despite the smile on his face.   
  
"I believe you started it, I just finished it," Castiel replied smugly.   
  
"Jerk," Dean laughed and slowly stood up reaching a hand down to pull Castiel up. Cas reached up and scratched his fingers through Dean's hair, shaking out some of the wet sand. This prompted Dean to shake his head like a wet dog, splattering water everywhere.   
  
"Honestly, cut it out!" Castiel laughed, holding up his hands, then thinking two could play at that game. He shook his own head and smirked as Dean jumped back out of the way.   
  
"Let's go get you out of those wet clothes," he whispered, leaning in to Dean and pressing a kiss to his salty cheek. He placed a hand on the man's chest and brushed his thumb lightly over his perky nub, hard from the cold water. Dean gave a shiver at the light touch and nodded fervently.   
  
They hurried back up to the cottage and Dean stopped him before going in. "Hey, we should take off these wet clothes before going in." He winked at Castiel, then grabbed the hem of his damp tee shirt, slowly pulling it up over his head to reveal his tan, freckled chest. Castiel bit his lip so hard he knew he'd leave a bruise, eyes fixed on the gorgeous man before him. Dean ran his thumbs under his jeans waistband a few times, teasing before he slowly popped the top button and dragged the zipper down painstakingly slow. "You better get your clothes off too, sunshine."   
  
Castiel flushed. He always did like the sweet names Dean used for him. He pulled off his own shirt and tossed it to the ground and glanced around, making sure no one was around. He moved to unbutton his jeans when fingers joined his, pulling his hands away. He looked up at mischievous green eyes and just drank him in. He let Dean pull off his jeans and they both stood in their boxer briefs, just inches apart. Castiel could feel the body heat radiating off the other man.   
  
"You better get your ass inside or I'm about to bend you over that picnic table right now." Castiel threatened with a growl and watched Dean's adam's apple bob and he swallowed hard bolting into the house. Castiel got his own wicked grin as he followed Dean into the house.   
  
"Where do you want me?" Dean asked a bit short of breath, turning to Castiel. Damn, if he wasn't the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Eyes full of love and lust and trust, it was enough to make him come unglued.   
  
"On the bed. Face the water." Castiel ducked to grab a small bottle from his duffel. Kicking off his boxer briefs, he looked up to see the curve of Dean's back. He'd taken off his briefs and was kneeling, facing the wide window, his perfect ass resting on his heels and hands splayed out on his thighs. The sun was setting now and warm, orange light filled the room.   
  
He moved slowly up behind his lover, reaching out both hands and running them up Dean's spine, over his shoulder blades, and leaned in to plant a kiss to the middle of his back. Dean shivered at the soft touch. He looked at the scars there, streaking lines across his back and couldn't help but press light kisses over them. It had become a habit of his to kiss away all those marks left on Dean. He could feel Dean shifting under his ministrations and had to suppress a chuckle.   
  
He moved his lips up against Dean's ear, pressing his chest to Dean's back. "Always the impatient one, aren't you?" he teased and nipped at Dean's ear, earning himself a very needy moan that made his cock twitch in anticipation. He moved his hands around to tweak one of Dean's nipples, the other snaking around to grip his cock, fingers teasing over the tip already damp with precum. Cas couldn't help but rut his hard erection against the crease of Dean's ass, letting out a tiny growl. He wanted to be inside that tight warm heat as soon as possible.   
  
He pushed his knees up behind Dean's, slotting them together. He kept one hand on Dean's warm, hard cock and moved slick fingers between them to tease at Dean's hole. He loved the way Dean arched back against him, leaning his weight onto him. He grazed his teeth over his shoulder and exposed throat as he worked him open.   
  
"C-Cas please, I-I need..."   
  
"Shhh, I know, I got you," Castiel whispered against Dean's ear. He could feel that Dean was finally loose enough, and he slicked up his pulsing, oversensitive cock. He lined up and held Dean tight as he slowly pushed into him. He felt Dean's body give to him and couldn't contain his own moan of pleasure. Dean was searingly hot and tight around him, muscles twitching and clenching. The sensation was so intense he had to slow and take a few breaths to avoid coming on the spot. He finally bottomed out and sighed in relief once Dean was fully seated on him.   
  
His muscles strained holding them both up, Dean’s hard muscle and soft edges pushing back against him, asking for more. His free hand moved across Dean's chest, gripping his shoulder for better purchase as he began to slowly thrust into him. They moved together, Dean relaxing his whole body into Cas. Cas looked out the window to see a vibrant expanse of colors stretched out over the ocean before them.   
  
"D-Dean... look," he panted, and Dean lifted his head to look out at the sunset, a smile stretched across his face. Castiel increased his thrusting at a new angle that made Dean gasp for breath. He wasn't going to last much longer and he took his fingers still slick from prepping him and began stroking along Dean’s cock. Dean made the most amazing sounds, whimpers and moans and incoherent pleas for more. Castiel revelled in it, bringing Dean to the brink like this and holding him there. Finally, knowing he was right on the edge, he whispered in his ear, "Come for me, Dean." He felt Dean's body arch back, head tipped on his shoulder. Dean's muscles tightened around him as he came with Castiel's name escaping his lips. Castiel's release burst through him and he clung to Dean as his body shook with the aftershocks of his release.   
  
The exhaustion from the day felt like it hit him all at once and he pulled both of them down onto the bed together, nuzzling his face into Dean's hair and curling up behind him. He knew Dean had a few inches on him but he just loved being the big spoon. It felt like he could wrap Dean up in his arms and never let him go.   
  
Dean let out a sigh. "We're making a mess of the clean bed."   
  
"Don't care," Cas mumbled, pressing kisses against Dean's neck. Dean twisted his shoulders so he could look at Cas. Dean's eyes raked over him, looking far off in thought. 

"Dean?"   
  
"I love you. You know that, right?"   
  
"Of course I do." He planted a kiss to Dean's lips. "I love you too, always."   
  
"M'good," he mumbled, turning back over and snuggling down against the pillow. He pulled a blanket from the foot of the bed up over them and they lay silently together, watching as the oranges and pinks in the sky turned to purples and blues as night set in. Dean's breathing slowed and Castiel could tell he'd fallen asleep.   
  
"Never gonna let anyone hurt you again, I promise," Castiel whispered, finally drifting off to sleep, Dean tucked safely in his arms.   
  


********

  
They spent the next few days sitting on the beach, going for walks to a few tidal pools, riding in Baby to go get ice cream and having sex in just about every available space to them. It was so secluded where they were, Castiel sometimes felt like they really were the last two people on earth. 

Castiel was stretched out on a blanket, arm over his eyes to shield the sun when he felt a tap on his knee.   
  
Sitting up and squinting, he saw Dean's outstretched hand. "Come on, handsome, let's go for a walk."   
  
Castiel took the proffered hand and laced their fingers together as they began walking down the beach. It was a cooler afternoon and a little breeze swept through his hair. They walked till they reached a small set of stone steps that were carved into a rising cliff face. It seemed like a substantial climb and he didn't have any shoes on. He opened his mouth to voice this concern when Dean interrupted him.   
  
"I know its a lot of stairs but the view up there is totally worth it," he grinned, and never being one to deny Dean anything, Cas nodded and followed him up the winding stairs. He was panting when he reached the top, but the view was stunning. He walked over near the edge of the grassy cliff, peering down and spotting their cottage, a small dot on beach below.   
  
"This is beautiful, Dean... Dean?" he turned around looking for Dean and found him kneeling down in the grass, his hands placed on his thighs and looking at Castiel's feet. "Dean?"   
  
"Cas," Dean's voice was a bit rough as he looked at him and Castiel saw the shine to his eyes. He reached out a hand and Dean grasped it. "Cas, I know that we didn't get the best start to things. You've seen me at my lowest low when I felt less than human. I didn't think I'd ever make it back from that, ever feel like a person again. I was so lost in the pain, it felt like drowning in the dark. I was in hell and I accepted that, I knew that's where I belonged. But you pulled me out of hell, and more than that, you pulled me out of myself. You showed me I was still human, I still had a soul, albeit damaged. You put me back together and gave me something to fight for, something to love. You saved me. You're the kindest, bravest, most bad ass mother fucker I ever met."   
  
This made Castiel laugh and Dean smiled up him before continuing. "I love you. You make me feel safe, you make me feel wanted, and you make me want to be better man. All I want now is a chance to spend the rest of my life loving you." Dean raised himself up to one knee and dug in his pocket pulling out two silver bands. "Will you marry me, Cas?"   
  
Castiel's jaw dropped and tears that had been brimming in his eyes spilled down his face. All he could do was fall to his knees and pull Dean into a crushing hug.   
  
"Is that a yes?" Dean asked, a waiver to his voice.   
  
"Yes! Yes, a hundred times, yes." Castiel grabbed Dean's cheeks in his hands and began peppering kisses all over his face till he finally landed on his lips. Now that he had him he was never gonna let him go. Together they were going to survive, together they could heal each other, and together they could let it all go. Castiel knew that everything was going to be okay, and couldn't wait to see what the future held for them, finally safe and finally free.


End file.
